


High Flying

by WriteSprite



Series: The High Flying Universe [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-30
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-13 04:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 70,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteSprite/pseuds/WriteSprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry never expected to see Scorpius Malfoy at his Quidditch Camp. But he never expected to get close to Scorpius' father either...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Harry stretched leisurely at his desk on Tuesday afternoon, the tips of his fingers brushing against the steel overhead cabinet behind him. He blinked sleepily at the paperwork in front of him, wishing that the Quidditch playbook he was compiling would simply arrange itself neatly so that he could slip out of the office early. Huffing good-naturedly, Harry plucked his quill from the pine laminate desk and began scribbling more notes on the flying formations he would teach the kids tomorrow.

Immediately following the war, Harry hadn't been sure what he really wanted to do with his life. His fifth year at Hogwarts had given him aspirations toward a career as an Auror, but that fell to pieces after his final battle with Voldemort. He didn't want to have to deal with crimes, and hunting down Death Eaters, or murders. Especially that last. He was absolutely certain that he had seen enough death and destroyed souls to last a lifetime. And because of that, he decided he wanted to spend his time doing something that would make people happy. More specifically, to give kids the childhood he never really had.

Minister Shacklebolt had come to him and asked if he wanted to set up a summer Quidditch program where young witches and wizards could learn the basics of the game, while those slightly older could refine their skills and brush up before returning to their house teams at Hogwarts.

Thus, the Quidditch Camp was born. And Harry was excited, make no mistake. He was just a tad…nervous. He didn't have any kids of his own and wasn't really sure he ever would after his relationship with Ginny had gone to hell.

There was just a niggling part of his mind that was unsure how everyone would respond to him. Adults he knew how to handle. They would approach him with awe and glazed-over eyes and he would smile tightly, shaking their hands and posing for photographs. But would the campers react the same way?

Harry shook his head to get rid of the anxiety–inducing thoughts. He was twenty-six years old for fucks sake. He would just go into it the same way he approached everything. All Gryffindor bravery and wands-blazing. Well, maybe not wands-blazing. He wanted to teach the children, not scare them into juvenile heart attacks. He grinned ruefully at the thought of the Ministry trying to explain how Harry Potter had sent almost four dozen school children to St. Mungo's and then dove back into work.  


# ~*~*~*~*~*~

Wednesday morning came sooner than expected. Harry had anticipated tossing and turning all night worrying that there was something he'd forgotten to implement for the first day's activities. But the knowledge that he had a great hand-picked staff in place calmed his nerves and his mind.

The Department of Magical Games and Sports had spent the year after Voldemort's defeat building a small, but effective Quidditch pitch and adjoining office in an abandoned field on the outskirts of Liverpool. As Harry Apparated to the designated area below the stands, he took in the sight of the freshly manicured pitch with pride. The goal posts and flanking bleachers were not professional grade by any means, but they were well-made and perfectly suited for the children who'd be playing today. Morning sunlight glinted off the field of grass and caused a small smile to appear on Harry's face.

"She looks beautiful, doesn't she?" a voice said from behind him.

Harry whirled around and spotted Timothy Miel, the assistant coach for Quidditch Camp. Timothy had sandy-brown hair, icy blue eyes, and a chiseled jaw that always made Harry think of the Muggle actor, Daniel Craig. Today he wore a fitted navy blue t-shirt and dark jeans that hugged him cozily in the rear.

Harry swallowed noisily, trying to rid his mind of that thought and instead chuckled at Tim personifying the pitch as a "she." He couldn't help but agree though. "Absolutely beautiful."

"Are you ready for the kiddies today?" Tim asked with a grin, falling into step with Harry around the stands and toward the small business office.

"I think so," he admitted. "More ready to get up in the air and play than deal with more planning and paperwork."

"Too right," Tim said, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Leave all the paper pushing to Allie and Phil, yeah?"

"Don't think they'd appreciate that too much," he chastised gently. Allie and Phil were brother and sister and would be teaching the youngest players Quidditch basics. But Harry couldn't deny that their true strengths seemed to lie in administration. Allie had compiled a detailed schedule for the first week that would put Hermione's organizational skills to shame.

The office door opened before Harry could put his hand on the knob and Phil stood in the doorway looking every bit the excited camper. "All right there Harry? Tim?" he called. His brown eyes twinkled under a mop of matching brown hair almost as messy as Harry's own.

"Morning Phil," Harry and Tim echoed back.

They entered the room together and Harry was still stunned at how official the place looked. Six desks were arranged neatly, two on the left, and three on the right with Harry's large desk along the back wall. Posters featuring players from the Tornados, Cannons, and other various professional teams adorned the walls. A door on the left wall adjacent to Harry's desk led to a private bathroom and shower.

"Harry, I'm so glad you're here!" Allie called out, before he could walk to the back of the room. The petite brunette insinuated herself right into Harry's direct line of sight waving a piece of parchment in her hand.

"Allie, hi. What is it?" he asked, chewing his lower lip. He would never understand how someone could be quite so excitable at 8am.

"One of the kids dropped out, the Jeffries boy. Seems his parents decided to take him on a vacation to Egypt instead of coming to camp." Allie scowled, her pixie-like face visibly irked that the family had dared to waste her time.

"Well, we can just pull someone off the waiting list right?" Harry was unsure what the big deal was. Parents were sometimes more fickle than the children, but there were plenty of names to fill the missing spot.

"Yes Harry, we can, but the next child on the list - " She was abruptly cut off by the appearance of two more staff members, Sophia and Marco. The boyfriend and girlfriend duo were dynamos on brooms and once Harry had seen them in the air, he hired them without any further interview.

"Morning boss!" Sophia called out, her long black hair swinging as she crossed the room in quick strides. She arrived at her desk on the right side of the office with Marco following her lead and sitting at the desk in front of hers. "You plan to do something about those gnomes on the field or should I?"

Harry sighed and dragged a hand through his thick hair. "We've got gnomes? Shit."

"Don't worry about it Harry. There's still another hour before people start showing up. Plenty of time to get rid of a few pesky critters," Tim called from his seat. "C'mon."

Harry started toward the door and realized Allie was still trying to talk to him about the vacant position. He placed a calming hand on her forearm. "Do whatever you need to Allie. I trust your judgment." With that, he followed Tim out the front door before she could argue back.  


# ~*~*~*~*~*~

Gnomes were evil creatures. Not inherently so. Just when you were trying to get rid of them before forty-two school kids and their parents arrived for a camp that you were touting as safe, educational, and fun.

A bead of sweat rolled down Harry's temple and he made the mistake of wiping it away with the hand where one of the more devilish gnomes had bit him. He muttered a curse under his breath as the salt stung in his wound. It was shaping up to be a lovely morning. Aside from the de-gnoming, there was scheduled to be a massive summer thunderstorm right in the middle of their day. He, Marco, and Phil had spent another twenty minutes casting a weather-proof charm in a dome around the pitch. And oh yeah. It was sweltering hot.

Harry's light blue t-shirt stuck to his torso uncomfortably and he wrinkled his nose at the sensation while walking back to the office. "Do I have time for a quick shower?" he asked Allie as he entered the room. Everyone else was back out on the pitch setting out equipment and an assortment of different colored pinnies.

She frowned at his appearance in a very Aunt Petunia-ish way. "Make time," Allie replied simply.

After showering, Harry felt much better and braced himself to meet all his campers. He could hear a multitude of loud voices from where he stood in the office.

His approach to the field was unnoticed at first until a small red-headed girl, maybe nine years old, caught his eye and yelled triumphantly."He's here! Harry Potter!"

All the other children turned in his direction from where they were sat on the grass and cheered. Harry ducked his head shyly, but continued walking nearer. They all waited with rapt attention when he reached the middle of the field and held a hand up for quiet.

"Hello everyone," he began. "I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for deciding to come to Quidditch Camp this year. Now we'll be working with three different age levels, seven to nine, ten to twelve, and thirteen to fifteen. Each age level will be broken up into two teams and will train and then compete…"

Harry finished up his welcome speech and then introduced the other coaches. While Tim was explaining that he would be working with the advanced group, Harry took a chance to look over the attendees. He was inexorably reminded of the sorting at Hogwarts and felt a twinge of sadness at how his time at the wizarding school had ended. There seemed to be a good mix of campers, roughly even with girls and boys, slight and husky. Harry squinted at a tall muscular child that was huddled with the twelve year olds. He looked to be about sixteen easily and Harry would be sure to have Allie double-check his birth documents.

Looking over at the youngest kids he noted a child sitting cross-legged on the grass paying close attention to everything Phil was saying to the beginners group. He had delicate doe-like limbs, a pale complexion and a smile on his face that could have passed as either a sneer or a smirk. But that wasn't what caught his attention. What did was the mass of white blond hair that fell over the child's face.

"I see you've spotted the replacement," Allie whispered from his side.

"Is that - " he trailed off.

She nodded vigorously. "That's what I was trying to tell you earlier. That's Draco Malfoy's son. Scorpius."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry starts to get those "special" feelings - but for who?

Malfoy. A younger and shorter version, but most definitely still a Malfoy. Harry could see it in the way Scorpius held his head in a proud fashion when his broom jumped instantly into his hand when practice began. He wasn't entirely sure why the idea of a junior Malfoy left him so surprised. Of course Draco had a son by now. Most of his former classmates were already coupled off and starting families. He was the one sitting around during his winter downtime trying to figure out where things had gone wrong with Ginny.

_Perhaps it's the idea that even Malfoy found someone to produce a child with that's really bothering you_ , said a tiny voice in the back of his head.

Harry gritted his teeth. This was ridiculous. He was finally living his dream, working with kids, playing Quidditch, and getting paid for it. He shouldn't be focusing on Malfoy. Again. He wasn't too keen on the idea of a repeat of their 6th year.

Instead he brought his thoughts back to the task at hand. He was in the air on his Polaris 1500, high above the field. Below him, black and white mesh jerseys raced from one end of the pitch to the other, his advanced group already engaged in a heated match. They were quite good actually, Harry had to admit. Probably the combination of inherent flying skills and the practiced hand of Professor Flotter, the new flying instructor at Hogwarts. Directly across from him, Tim was peering at the game with hawk-like concentration, more than ready to catch a falling student, despite the skill level of their group.

Harry found his attention being diverted again, this time noticing how the blue of Tim's eyes matched the sky behind him. His body rode low on his broom, creating a sleek aerodynamic effect that Harry suddenly couldn't tear his eyes away from. Not to mention the amazing things the broom was doing to his assistant coach's ass…

Green eyes widened comically after running over that last thought again. What the hell was going on with him? Was he really that hard up that he was ogling his staff members? His male staff members at that? Well not Phil, that would just be weird. Although Marco had a dangerous side that he wouldn't mind finding out more about…

Harry dragged a hand down his face and composed his breathing into a normal fashion. Later. He would deal with this later.

 

* * *

  


"Boss – I need to talk to you for a minute," Phil yelled from across the pitch as Harry Apparated under the bleachers a few days into camp. He jogged over to Harry with a slightly pained expression in his eyes. Harry's hand instantly went to palm his wand which was sticking out of his jeans pocket.

"What's wrong?" he asked warily.

"It's Allie. She's ill, nothing terrible. We just think she's gotten a touch of that Griping Bug that's going around."

Harry's mouth twisted into a concerned frown. "That's really contagious, isn't it?" he asked, walking with Phil back to the office, but with enough distance between them that he wouldn't be exposed to anything his friend had inadvertently picked up from his sister.

"It is. Don't worry – I'm fine," Phil assured. "She just wanted to let you know that she won't be able to come in for a couple of days. Well you know, in between getting sick and then complaining incessantly," he added with a wry grin.

Harry sighed, but nodded understandingly. It wasn't Allie's fault that she'd caught a bug. He was just going to have to find someone to replace her for a while. His teeth gnawed his lower lip in concentration. But as they neared the office, Phil spoke again. "I figured we could just juggle some of us around, make sure all the groups are well-monitored without the bother of getting a temporary coach."

He paused inside the doorway of the office thinking, then swiveled his head in Phil's direction. "Yeah. Yeah, that's fine. We'll do that."

Before he could turn his attention back in front of him, he bumped into a tall warm body. "Whoa there Harry! You alright?" Tim asked, gripping Harry's elbows so that he wouldn't stumble.

The brunette blinked at Tim rapidly, slightly thrown off by their close proximity for more than one reason. He still hadn't completely wrapped his head around his feelings for his co-worker and was suddenly very much aware of the magic and waves of soothing heat emanating from his skin.

Harry stood up quickly, nearly knocking Phil off-balance behind him, and marched swiftly to his desk. "I'm fine. Sorry about that."

A timid grin lit up Tim's face as he followed Harry to his desk and sat on the edge. "No worries. So has Phil told you about Allie?"

Harry sat down in his chair heavily, trying to ignore how Tim's ass was perched perfectly on the corner of the furniture in front of him. "He did. He suggested we kind of rotate instead of trying to get someone on a temporary basis."

"What's wrong with Allie?" a deep voice asked from the doorway. Marco and Sophia were the last to arrive, as usual.

"Griping Bug," Phil replied from his desk at the front of the office.

Sophia turned up her nose, but shook her head without saying anything. Marco spoke for her. "My mum had that last year. She would fuss at me for twenty minutes about how my hair is too long, get sick for ten, and then spend another twenty on the dangers of leaving dirty dishes in the sink. It's maddening."

Harry grinned from behind the schedule he was examining, allowing his staff to continue their conversation for a few moments while he tried to rearrange the coaching formation.

"Does anyone have any preferences as to which group they'd like to work with?" Harry asked several minutes later.

Phil cleared his throat before responding. "Actually, I was going to ask if you minded working with the beginners group with me. They can get a little…unruly, and I could really use another set of eyes."

Harry drummed his fingers along the edge of his desk. "Ok. That's fine. As long as Tim doesn't mind working with our group alone." He tilted his head up to gauge Tim's reaction. The man was gazing back at him thoughtfully.

A small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes appeared on Tim's face. "Have at it. I can handle the teens on my own."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked softly, a little perturbed at Tim's response. "I'm not ditching you, you know. This is just until Allie comes back. Then I'm all yours again."

_Shit. Why did I say that?_

But the statement seemed to convince Tim. The corners of his eyes crinkled with true mirth this time. He nodded his assent and then uttered quietly, "Until Allie returns."

 

* * *

 

It was two rogue Bludgers to the kidney later that Harry remembered why he preferred working with the older group so much. Though everyone was progressing nicely, the youngest set of campers were still, well…young. There was lots of wobbly flying, throws toward the goal that missed by several feet, and Harry was under the distinct impression that the Seeker was too concerned with his handle grip to even think about the Snitch. But even while rubbing his aching side absently, he realized that they might not be the most efficient group, but they were having fun. Even Scorpius, who Harry thought would be more reserved than the others given his Malfoy background.

However, the child rose to the challenge of not only remaining secure and steady on his broom, but proving quite adept at catching the Quaffle and not fumbling it so the opposing team could steal. When his teammate, Corinne Sories, a willowy wisp of a girl, was able to score a goal past the rival Keeper, Scorpius thrust a fist in the air so triumphantly, Harry couldn't help but grin. He turned mid-air in Harry's direction, preening, and the coach was caught off guard by the pure joy illuminating the boy's face. A heavy knot tightened in Harry's stomach and he was suddenly overcome with emotion.

_It's just because Scorpius probably isn't permitted to really express himself at home that has you feeling this way. Besides, he's not your kid and Draco would have a hissy fit if he knew you were getting sappy over his son's exhilaration._

__It was that thought that sobered him and cleared his mind enough for him to go and help Phil sort out a squabble with two of the Beaters.

 

* * *

 

"Mr. Potter," a small voice called from behind him. It was nearing 4pm and parents were appearing in droves to wrangle their children off their brooms and bustle them away in another pop of Disapparition. Harry was busy strapping the equipment back into heavy wooden trunks, but turned around to meet the cool gray eyes of Scorpius Malfoy.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth at Scorpius' formality. "It's Coach Harry, Scorpius, remember?" Harry had spent most of the first few days of camp encouraging the students to call him by his first name, lest he spend the entire summer being bombarded with memories of Hogwarts professors chastising him in the hallways with "Mr. Potter."

"Right, sorry sir." Pink tinged his cheeks lightly at the gentle reprimand. "I just wanted to ask you if you would mind giving me extra help with Quidditch." He scraped the toe of his sneakers into the grass in a conventional child-like fashion.

Harry's dark brows furrowed. "I'm not sure what you need help with Scorpius. Everyone in your group is a beginner and you're faring quite well under Coach Phil and Coach Allie. You're probably one of the best flyers on your team." He added that last statement hesitantly, not wanting to feed into the Malfoy superiority complex.

Scorpius took the compliment as given and carried on. "Thank you, sir. My dad taught me. But I want to be _the_ best when I go to Hogwarts. Some of the flying patterns I have trouble with. I get them confused."

The look of distress on the boy's face compelled Harry to kneel down to his level and place a hand on his shoulder. "Scorpius. We've only been at camp for a short while. These things take time and practice. You're only seven years old. There's plenty of time to get it right before you're trying out for the school house team. But -" Harry inhaled deeply, steeling himself for his next statement. "If you really want, I suppose I could give you some additional lessons. _If_ it's ok with your dad." He bit the inside of his cheek thinking about what Draco would say when Scorpius told him he wanted to work one on one with his childhood nemesis.

"Really? That's great Mr – I mean – Coach Harry!" Scorpius' small face lit up with gratitude and then he seemed to catch himself. He arranged his features back into a more sedate manner and extended a tiny hand for Harry to shake.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

Harry breathed shakily, instantly transported to the same scenario he encountered with Draco so many years ago. How different would things have been if he'd accepted that hand the first time? If nothing else, Harry learned from his mistakes. He took Scorpius' hand and shook it lightly. "You're welcome."

Another smile crossed his face until he heard a pop of Apparition. Harry and Scorpius turned their heads simultaneously toward the sound and took in Draco Malfoy wearing forest green robes and looking tired. Draco's gray eyes, so much like his son's, but deeper, flicked to Harry and the fatigue seemed to vanish instantly. A sneer began to form as the eyes flicked back and saw him shaking hands with Scorpius.

"I have to go," Scorpius said, dropping Harry's hand like a Dungbomb and racing to where Draco stood about fifteen feet away. "I'll see you tomorrow!" he called over his shoulder and waved.

Harry waved back and then stood before looking back to Draco. Scorpius had already reached him and was holding his hand in preparation for Side-Along Apparition. Harry nodded his head curtly in Draco's direction and wondered if he would acknowledge him at all. Draco seemed to pause for a moment and then rolled his eyes, disappearing with Scorpius in the next instant.

He dragged a hand through his hair and finished packing up the remaining equipment. A snort forced its way through his nose as he thought about Scorpius asking Draco's permission to receive extra help. Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket and levitated the trunk over to the broom shed.

_Good luck with that, kid. You're braver than I am._


	3. Chapter 3

_Potter,_

_My son has informed me that he would like to take additional Quidditch lessons with you. While I cannot begin to understand why anyone would subject themselves to copious amounts of time in your presence, I must admit that Scorpius does seem rather fond of you. I'll chalk it up to a weakness on his mother's side. If you insist on overreaching your duties as a coach, you may tutor Scorpius on Saturday afternoons at precisely 1pm. The house elves will admit you when you arrive._

_\- D. Malfoy_

Harry frowned as he read the letter for a third time. He propped an elbow up on the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place and leaned his head on his hand. A cauldron full of emotions was bubbling in his gut. Anger. Frustration. And oddly enough, amusement.

There was a part of him that was livid that Malfoy would automatically commandeer part of his weekend for these lessons. Harry had just intended to keep Scorpius for an extra hour once or twice a week once the others had gone home. But his old rival _had_ to imply that he had the upper hand by selecting the day, time, and location. And yet, it also provoked a sense of familiarity. The former Slytherin seemed to be just as big a git as he was in school.

_The more things change, the more they stay the same, don't they?_

"Harry? You home mate?" a voice called from the living room.

Malfoy's letter floated down to the table as Harry stood up, pushing the wooden chair back. "In the kitchen Ron - come on through!" he yelled back.

He moved over to the cabinet near the sink and pulled out a bag of biscuits that Ron liked to snack on whenever he came over. As he was dumping some out on a plate, Ron entered the kitchen, absentmindedly dusting Floo Powder from his robes. Harry smirked a bit and was reminded of how glad he was that he didn't have to wear robes for his job.

"How are - " Harry began, but was instantly cut off by Ron waving one hand in the air, the other reaching for the plate of biscuits.

"We need to go out. Tonight." Ron chewed thoughtfully and regarded Harry as though they were wasting time still standing around in the kitchen.

Harry's head tilted to the side in confusion. "What do you mean by 'out'?"

"I _mean_ , you and me, drinking, picking up girls, laughing. But mainly drinking." Ron threw himself into the nearest seat and continued looking steadily at Harry.

His eyes narrowed. "Why? What's happened?"

Ron colored slightly, dropped his head, and went for what had to be his fourth biscuit. "Hermione happened."

Comprehension dawned and Harry assumed that Ron and Hermione had moved into the "off-again" stage in their on-again, off-again relationship.

"You don't think she'll be mad about you chatting up women once you two make up?" he asked, dropping back down into a chair next to his friend.

"Don't care."

Harry pursed his lips. He had a feeling that deep down, the red-head did care, but was adopting what he considered to be the manly position in this situation. He sighed. Going out did not sound like a good time right now. His body was still aching from camp and he was tired but…

"Fine. I'll go with you. But I'm not drinking." Harry paused for effect. "I have work tomorrow," he finished proudly.

"Ah right! How's that going?" Ron asked.

Harry beamed. "Brillant. Really brilliant. The kids are great. Though, you'll never guess who one of the students is." He reached for a biscuit himself while Ron thought.

Ron's nose wrinkled in concentration for a moment and then straightened again. "Dunno. Who?"

"Scorpius Malfoy."

"Scor - " Ron's eyes bulged as the pieces fell into place. "Malfoy? Malfoy has a kid?"

Harry grinned and nodded. He could always count on Ron to share his astonishment at all things Malfoy.

"He's not bad. Scorpius, that is. Elder Malfoy is still a prick of course."

A disgusted expression crawled over Ron's face. "Don't call him that mate. Makes it sound like he's important or something."

Harry chuckled. "He seems like a good kid. A little uptight at times, but a bit of Harry Potter rebellion will probably remedy that."

"How do you mean?"

He pushed Malfoy's letter in Ron's direction and watched his expression become more and more incredulous.

" _If you insist_ …that ferret-faced little wanker!"

"Don't worry about it. I have a plan."

As Harry and Ron walked up to his bedroom on the third floor to begin getting ready for their night on the town, he explained the slightly mutinous thoughts that had been circling his mind since reading Malfoy's letter. While he fully intended to teach Scorpius to the best of his abilities, he didn't see any harm in imparting some Gryffindor ideas about respect for others and honesty. A diabolical grin emerged on Harry's face. This was going to be fun.

* * *

The music inside the Bacchus Bar was deafening, shaking the walls of the building with pulsing force. Black marble dotted with flecks of gold lined the floor of the entryway, leading across the ground floor and accenting matching pillars of gold. Four columns were positioned in a diamond in the middle of the first floor, flanking the well-stocked bar. Behind the many bottles of liquor rushed a magical waterfall that seemed to flow from the upper levels. The sight of flowing water combined with the low lights and sweaty writhing bodies on the dance floor made the whole place seem like a haven of delicious sin.

_Which_ , Harry thought, _it probably is._

He and Ron were seated in a section to the far right of the bar where murals of intricate vineyards, nymphs, and dryads wrapped around the walls, the feminine spirits winking and beckoning patrons closer from time to time.

A large carafe of Firewhisky sat on the table between Ron and Harry, with a smaller jug of a non-alcoholic drink called "The Liberator" positioned closer to Harry's side of the table. Ron was already five shots in, but Harry, sticking to his earlier proclamation, was sipping lightly from the honey-infused beverage. That was, until he began to choke on the liquid, eyes growing wide at the sight of a person entering the bar.

"Tim?" he called hesitantly, once he was able to swallow regularly.

A brilliant smile lit up the room as Tim walked over to Ron and Harry's booth. "Harry, fancy seeing you here. Was this supposed to be a work happy hour and I just didn't get the memo?"

Harry grinned. "No, just an impromptu boy's night out." He sidled over in his seat to allow Tim room to sit down and then realized that he didn't know if Tim _wanted_ to join them.

Ron looked up suddenly as though he hadn't noticed anyone approach and squinted in Tim's general direction. "Do I know you?"

Tim looked baffled until Harry saved him from further confusion. "He's well on his way to being pissed. Don't pay him any mind. Ron," he began. "This is Tim. From the camp? He and I work together."

The table was nearly upset as Ron stood up abruptly and embraced Tim in a hearty bear hug. "Tom! Of course? How the hell have you been?"

Harry and Tim shared a look of amusement over Ron's shoulder. "Well, it's _Tim_ , but I've been good. Not that you have any frame of reference seeing as though we're meeting for the first time," Tim replied with a grin and then slipped out of Ron's grip.

"Did you want to join us?" Harry asked once Ron was seated again.

"As long as you don't mind hanging out with 'Tom' instead of Tim for the night," he chuckled and slid into the booth next to Harry.

Light notes of oak moss and sandalwood flooded Harry's nostrils as Tim scooted nearer, effectively short-circuiting his thoughts.

"How is Tom different from Tim?" Harry asked in a low-pitched voice before he could stop himself.

_That statement should not have sounded seductive_.

But the damage was already done if the glint in Tim's eyes was any indication.

"Well," he started, speaking slowly and in such a quiet tone that Harry doubted Ron could even hear. "Tim is a regular guy, works at a Quidditch camp, and likes joking and having a few drinks with his friends and co-workers."

Harry found himself falling into the depths of Tim's eyes while he waited for the second description. "And Tom?" he queried breathlessly.

_When did his voice change to sound like that?_

Tim licked his lips lightly before continuing. Harry followed the movement intently with his eyes.

" _Tom_ , is a bit of a...free spirit. He parties a lot, has debaucherous sex, all while maintaining a wildly inappropriate crush on his boss."

Harry blinked.

"Who has a crush on their boss?" a voice cut across Harry, startling him out of his stupor. Damn. He'd forgotten Ron was there. "Is it that smoking hot girl from your job I met before, Harry? What was her name? Selma? Serena?"

"Sophia," Harry muttered distractedly. Ten thousand thoughts were whirling around his brain and it quickly felt as though _he_ was the one halfway through a pitcher of Firewhisky. "And I don't think she has a crush on me. She has a boyfriend."

"I don't know Harry," Tim chirped from beside him. "I think a lot of your co-workers carry a bit of a torch for you."

Harry didn't turn his head in Tim's direction. He couldn't right now. It was time to go.

"Ron, I didn't realize how late it was. We should get you back home." Harry fumbled for the small sack of Galleons he carried in his jeans pocket and threw a couple on the table to cover the tab. He stood up and grabbed Ron's elbow, pulling him upright.

Eyes were boring into his back, but Harry couldn't meet them. He threw a sidelong glance toward Tim's general direction before murmuring, "Sorry about this. I'll see you tomorrow." He pushed Ron bodily out of the booth and toward the exit.

"Where are we going?" Ron asked, twisting his torso to look back at the table. "Is Tom coming with us?"

"No. He's not." Harry was probably snapping at his friend, but this was a crisis situation.

"Aw, too bad. He seemed fun."

Later that night, Harry lay awake in his bed staring at the ceiling above him that hung in darkness. He could hear Ron's snores floating down the hall from one of the guest bedrooms. He had insisted on staying at Grimmauld Place for the night and Harry didn't have the wherewithal to argue.

_All while maintaining a wildly inappropriate crush on his boss… I think a lot of your co-workers carry a torch for you…_

Harry closed his eyes briefly and let the words wash over him. This was mad. Tim _couldn't_ be interested in him. And Harry certainly wasn't interested in Tim. They were co-workers and friends; nothing could ever happen between them. It would make things too weird. And Harry wasn't gay. Of course not.

He allowed images validating his heterosexuality to inundate his mind while he attempted to drift off. And yet, the soft feminine bodies he pictured would inadvertently morph into muscular taut torsos.

"Doesn't mean anything," Harry whispered to the otherwise silent room. "I'm just tired."

But the taut masculine bodies stayed with him for the night and wrapped him up in a warm cocoon as he fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets schooled in Gay Love 101...by an inappropriate teacher. But don't fret - our favorite blond will throw a wrench in the machine soon enough!

Friday morning dawned bright and sunny, as just about every other day that summer had done so far. The heat from the recent sunrise was drying a coating of dew on the neighborhood lawns. A light accompanying breeze floated along the street and through Harry's open window, tousling his hair softly. It was truly a beautiful and pleasant early morning. If only the weather matched Harry's disposition. It was much too soon in the day to be so cranky, but somehow Harry had managed it. A scowl was already forming on his face and it wasn't yet 7am.

"I hate mornings," he grumbled to himself. He was sat on the edge of his bed, squishing his bare toes into the dark gray bedroom carpet. The soft pile was soothing under his feet, but, like the weather, was far away from comforting Harry's mind. He'd had a fitful sleep, alternating between tossing restlessly and having rather…disturbing dreams. The brunette was glad that Ron had fallen asleep in the other room and wasn't subjected to his midnight muttering like he'd been during their Hogwarts years. Although Harry could have dealt with sleepy declarations about Transfiguration, trips to Hogsmeade, or even Ginny. The fantasies about men however, he could have done without.

Harry didn't know what to make of his feelings for Tim. He wasn't really certain if he'd ever noticed a male for their outer appearance before. Sure, Harry liked him as a friend. It would be hard not to. The duo had met a few months back when Harry was wandering aimlessly through Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley. He'd had every intention of flipping through several of the sports magazines on the rack to cure his boredom for a while. But when he walked through the door and caught the eye of the man behind the counter, his plans went awry. Tim was a clerk there at that time and was helpful without being overbearing. Friendly, but not cloying.

While perusing the broom section, Harry had made a comment about how the new Pinnacle 400 was hard on the ass. Tim had looked at him in surprise, as if he wasn't expecting that type of comment from someone of Harry's reputation and proceeded to laugh before teaching him a special cushioning charm that wouldn't interfere with the inherent magic of the broom. Harry wound up spending the rest of the afternoon in the shop with Tim, trying out different products and listening to Tim's Quidditch stories from the private wizarding school he'd gone to. Sadly, Harry had failed to keep in touch with Tim after that day, but when it came time to begin bringing in candidates for staff at the camp, he was at the top of Harry's list. Harry was just thankful Tim was still working there.

Was it really so unusual for someone to click like that on a platonic level and then have it progress into something more? Probably not. Would it really be so terrible if he was attracted to another bloke? Harry wasn't sure. If he was completely honest with himself, he did recognize Tim's physical attributes. His brown hair was straight, but always arranged in a sexy bed-head manner that Harry envied. The intense blue of his eyes was stunning and they always shined with mirth as he laughed with Harry about the antics of their students. He even had nice lips, which was something he never thought he'd find eye-catching in a man, but the list went on and on. Well-defined muscles in his upper arms and chest were made even more tantalizing with the tight t-shirts Tim favored. And his ass was so phenomenal that it tended to make Harry's stomach churn with something akin to hunger. Harry's morning erection grew even harder at the thoughts.

He pulled himself back into the present and huffed in annoyance. The clock read 6:55am now. He was going to be late for work if he continued ruminating on the side of the bed. His scowl grew impossibly deeper. Work. Tim would be at work. And Harry would have to make excuses for running out of the bar and possibly face up to what he alluded to last night. Instead of going to grab some breakfast and take a shower, Harry flopped back on the bed and tugged a pillow over his head in exasperation.

"Ron, can I stay home from school today?" Harry's muffled voice called out petulantly.

* * *

It turned out that he couldn't stay home. The depths of his pillow were no hiding place from Kreacher. Ten minutes later, the house-elf was determined to rouse both Harry and Ron. He stood out in the hallway between both bedrooms and clanged what sounded like pots and pans together. Try as he may, he just couldn't ignore that racket. Especially when combined with Kreacher stating that 'the half-blood and the blood-traitor are needing to go to their jobs so that Kreacher may do his.' That woke Ron up, and he stumbled past Harry's bedroom and waved a parting hand, but not before glaring at Kreacher and holding his head in pain.

So now Harry found himself skulking under the bleachers at camp, torn between running for the safety of the office in case Tim Apparated in behind him and staying put for the fear that Tim had already arrived. He chewed his lip and rocked on the balls of his feet with nervous indecision. Harry imagined what he must look like, a grown man lingering in the shadows of a Quidditch pitch, muttering to himself.

_Get on with it Potter_ , he thought to himself brusquely. _This is just one man we're talking about. If you can face down a dark lord, surely you can survive a day with your sort-of crush._

His feet moved slowly at first, one in front of the other, and then gained confidence his brain didn't feel while striding toward the office. _Twenty paces to go._ He told himself that it wasn't cowardly to cast a Homenum Revelio before entering the building and then sigh with relief when no other presence was sensed. He was just being cautious. Who knew what dark wizards would show up at his camp and try to snatch one of the children? Harry was just being a responsible adult and looking out for the well-being of his campers.

Right.

Upon entering the office, he headed for the back of the room and sat down at his desk. Even though it was just past eight in the morning, he was alone while reviewing the day's activities. A random thought flickered in his mind when he noted the lack of staff.

_It is Friday isn't it? Not Saturday?_

He was halfway to the wall calendar between Sophia and Marco's desks to check when he caught sight of an owl swooping through the open window near the front door. The buff-colored bundle of feathers alighted on Harry's shoulder and held out his leg, hooting cheerfully. Harry reached his hands up and untied the letter from the owl, lightly nuzzling his cheek against the soft feathers of its breast. He was rewarded with a nibble on his ear.

He unrolled the parchment and stared down at Phil's immaculate penmanship.

_Harry:_

_It seems that Allie's daughter has caught the Griping Bug too. As if it's not already enough of a challenge trying to determine what a two-year old is complaining about. I've got my hands full taking care of her and Allie, so I won't be able to make it in today. I'm really sorry, but both of us should be back in on Monday._

_\- Phil_

Harry sighed and then grabbed a new piece of parchment and a quill from his desk.

_Phil,_

_Don't worry about it - we'll be fine. Hoping Allie and the little one are feeling better soon._

_\- Harry_

He rummaged through the jar on his desk and pulled out a treat for the owl and sent it on it's way with his letter to Phil. A large sigh escaped his mouth and he dragged a hand through his hair. This was going to be a longer day than he thought.

* * *

Marco and Sophia arrived closer to nine o'clock, looking flushed and winded, muttering apologies as they joined Harry on the sideline to distribute equipment and brooms. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but said nothing other than, "Phil won't be coming in today. Heidi caught the bug too and now he's taking care of them both."

They spent a few minutes sympathizing for the little girl as they worked and Harry was glad for the distraction until Sophia asked, "Is Tim sick too?"

Harry didn't look up from fixing the bristles on one of the more ragged brooms when he responded. "I don't know." He refrained from adding, "He seemed fine last night," to the end of that statement and then cringed.

Was Tim mad at him for running out the way he did? He tried to think about how he would feel if it had been the other way around. Wouldn't Harry be upset if he practically admitted he liked someone without knowing how they felt and then that person rushed off with barely a goodbye? The answer made Harry's stomach clench with guilt.

Harry cast a hopeful glance over to the Apparition point, but no one was there. His shoulders slumped with a heavy dose of disappointment and shame. He resigned himself to the fact that he would definitely have to apologize to Tim when he came in.

_If he comes in._

Harry's lips pursed before he took a bracing breath. "Since he's not here, I'll need to split you two up between the intermediate and advanced groups. Unless one of you wants to work with the beginners?"

"Merlin, no!" Marco exclaimed, before he could stop himself and Sophia was emphatically shaking her head no.

Harry allowed himself the first chuckle he'd had in what felt like weeks and filled Marco in on what the advanced campers were working on.

They had a revised schedule in place and were guiding the arriving students into their groups for warm-ups when Harry started to get worried. He absently-mindedly tossed a Quaffle to one of the nine year olds to begin the drills, his mind turning over thought after thought. What if Tim had gotten really drunk and never made it back to his house? Was he lying in a ditch somewhere, barely conscious, just waiting for someone to rescue him? Had he hurt himself and was unable to send an owl to let Harry know where he was?

Harry briefly considered dashing back to the office to jot out a short "Where the hell are you?" letter when a flash of color by the bleachers caught his eye. He squinted his eyes, but could tell it was Tim, even from this distance. And he didn't appear to be hurt based on his steady gait.

Harry exhaled with relief, but the emotion was quickly overtaken by panic. Now that Tim was here it meant that Harry would have to talk to him at some point today. He quickly turned back to supervise the morning exercises, hoping that he hadn't been caught staring.

"Harry."

Damn. Tim was standing right behind him, and with Harry right in front of the students, he couldn't show how much he wanted to bolt. He turned slowly and met Tim's visage.

A closer inspection revealed his face and body to be completely intact. There were no Glamours to conceal an injury, no slings, casts, or crutches. He looked fine except for some weariness in his eyes.

"Tim. I see you've made it in." Harry winced. He hadn't meant the sentence to sound that sharp. It was supposed to sound encouraging so that Tim would tell him why he was late instead of Harry having to ask.

A pained expression crossed Tim's countenance. "I know. I'm incredibly late and I should have sent an owl, but I'm really sorry." He licked his lips nervously and glanced out at the children as they reached the end of their warm ups. "I'll explain, I promise. Just…not here."

Harry searched his face for an emotion other than sheepishness, but found none. "Ok," he said quietly. "Will you please work with Marco and his group today? Phil is out so we're really short."

"You don't - " Tim looked at him for a moment and then seemed to change his mind. "Sure. I'll see you later." He walked over to the far side of the pitch and joined Marco in explaining and demonstrating the Typhoon Spin they'd been dying to learn.

Harry watched his retreating figure for a beat and then turned to his group. "Great warm ups today everyone! Now let's get started on those weaving maneuvers."

* * *

Harry spent the remainder of the day giving Tim a wide berth. While he was curious to know what had held the man up in getting to work that morning, he was more concerned about his impending apology. He ate lunch at his desk instead of outside on the grass with the others, claiming the need to send an owl to the Ministry. And when an argument broke out amongst his group over accusations of cheating, he solicited Sophia's assistance in calming everyone down instead of Tim's. By the time the end of the day rolled around, Harry was exhausted. It was hard work avoiding someone.

"You're coming to my house tomorrow, right Coach Harry?" Scorpius asked, once again startling him while he was gathering up equipment. He was going to have to start paying more attention. Harry blinked at him vacantly before remembering their private lessons. He'd almost forgotten them in all the pandemonium with Tim.

"Oh yes Scorpius, of course. Is there a pitch near your house or do you want to come here to practice?" Harry smirked at calling Malfoy Manor a 'house.' They probably had enough rooms to hold each of the campers and their families with space to spare.

Scorpius' gray eyes shone. "We have our own pitch out back. Father had it built when I was little."

Harry smiled, unwillingly touched at the thought of Malfoy building a pitch for his son. "Brilliant. I'll see you at one o'clock then."

Scorpius smiled and then darted back to the field to pick up his broom and wait for his dad.

Harry smiled and began his daily task of floating the equipment over to the shed and waved a hand at Sophia and Marco. "Have a good weekend, you two!" he called out.

"You too!" they yelled before reaching the Apparition point and disappearing out of sight.

_And then there were two._

Harry could feel Tim's presence before he even pulled out his wand to lock the shed doors. He turned around to see him waiting near the front door of the office, a lopsided grin thrown in Harry's direction.

"Care to tell me what's going on?" Harry asked from where he stood, a self-assured tone belying the crashing waves in his belly.

Tim walked over until he stood directly in front of him. He looked uncertain and almost scared, expressions Harry was not used to seeing on his friend's face.

"I was late this morning because…I felt bad. I obviously offended you last night at the bar and I didn't want to make things more awkward. So I was going to just stay home but realized that you deserved an explanation."

Harry didn't know what to say. After spending the whole day guessing that Tim would say something along those lines, he still could not pull out an appropriate response. Did he want to comfort him, or gently tell him that nothing could happen between them?

Harry lifted a hand to voice an opinion, but Tim continued doggedly on.

"Harry, I'm sorry that I made you uncomfortable." He shook his head in frustration. "And don't try to tell me I didn't. You wouldn't have avoided me all day if what I said hadn't bothered you."

Harry's mouth worked soundlessly. "I was just…do you really feel that way?" he blurted out.

Tim took a deep breath. "Would it make you feel better if I told you that I was only half-joking?" he tried with a hesitant smile.

Harry's heart fluttered and he took an unconscious step forward. "What about the other half?" he whispered.

"The other half makes me want to do this." Tim closed the gap between their bodies and ran a finger down Harry's cheek before leaning in and bringing his lips to hover millimeters away from Harry's. They weren't touching, but they were so close if Harry licked his lips out of nervousness, his tongue would undoubtedly graze Tim's as well. He didn't want to break the moment, he really didn't, but he had to say it.

"Tim I- I've never done this before." He closed his eyes momentarily and shuddered again as Tim's breath mingled with his own. It smelled sweet, a faint trace of the lemonade served at lunch.

Clear blue eyes gazed at Harry penetratingly. "That doesn't matter to me. What does matter, is knowing if you want to." Tim's voice was so husky Harry had to bite the inside of his lip to hold back a whimper. "Do you want to Harry?"

_Merlin, yes._

Harry passed on answering and instead leaned forward to place his lips on Tim's. He held still, breathing unevenly as if it had taken all of his energy just to get to that point. A small sound escaped from the back of Tim's throat and then the next thing he knew he was kissing Harry back. He inhaled deeply at the insistence of Tim's lips pressing against his and steadied himself against the wave of unfamiliar emotions. He was standing out in the open, in front of a Quidditch shed kissing someone he'd been working with that was really nice and sweet and just happened to be a guy. For some reason, that one sentence comforted Harry more than a Calming Draught. If he thought about it that way, considered who the person was on the inside first instead of automatically thinking of that person being male, well, it didn't seem quite as frightening.

_Think about the gift inside, not the outer package._ But the thought of "package" made Harry laugh, and he couldn't hold back a grin in the middle of their kiss.

Tim pulled back and looked at him worriedly. "Is this – is this ok? Do you not like it?"

Harry boldly placed a hand on Tim's chest to reassure him. Even through his shirt, the pectorals felt warm and strong beneath his fingertips and he suddenly had another mad urge to laugh. "I like it. Just seems…surreal."

Tim's responding smile was dazzling. He brought his left hand up to entwine with Harry's. "It does. Do you know I've wanted to do that since that day we met in Diagon Alley?"

Harry's breath caught in his chest. "Really?"

Tim kissed him again lightly, as though to test that he was truly there. "Really."

Harry smiled again and brought his other hand up to cup Tim's cheek. "I've just been so scared. Since we started working together I knew that I was beginning to think of you in a different way. It's been overwhelming."

Tim worked his free hand around Harry's waist to pull him closer. "We can take this as slowly as you need to. I'm just glad that I didn't scare you away."

Harry grinned ruefully. "You did at first. I had a hard time sleeping last night."

"Dreaming about me already?" Tim asked, waggling his eyebrows before leaning in to nuzzle his nose against Harry's cheek.

He chuckled. "No, prat. But I was thinking about what you said while we were out and I couldn't really get you out of my head."

"And now you don't have to." Tim dipped his head again and kissed Harry, this time tentatively running his tongue along the brunet's lower lip. Harry's body went on autopilot and he parted his lips for Tim, allowing the slick muscles to twist and undulate together. All of his nerve endings were on fire. With each flick of his tongue, Harry could feel Tim's hand tightening around his waist, prompting Harry to grow hard and shift his hips forward almost imperceptibly.

Oh yes. If this was what being gay felt like, Harry could definitely get on board.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns that the best surprises come in small packages.

_"So do you maybe want to do something this weekend? Get a bite to eat or go flying?"_

_"That would be brilliant."_

_"Ok, I'll owl you."_

Harry had replayed his conversation with Tim several times this morning already, and upon each re-imagining he grew more and more giddy. He was going out on what sounded suspiciously like a date. With a bloke. And he was ok with it. More than ok. Maybe even a little excited.

It was such a 180 from a mere twenty-four hours ago. After reluctantly disentangling himself from Tim the afternoon before, they'd made weekend plans and Harry had traipsed home reliving each kiss they’d shared.

It wasn't all that different from kissing a girl when he really thought about it. Tim's lips were still soft and warm, but the intensity was different, more aggressive in a way that made Harry's pajama bottoms feel a touch too tight.

"Harry Potter, I'd like a word with you," a voice called from the sitting room fireplace directly across from Harry's bedroom. He jumped out of his skin and quickly adjusted his…er…situation and dragged on a robe. Trust Hermione to ruin a perfectly good daydream.

He padded barefoot across the hall to sit in front of the fireplace where Hermione's head was glaring at him. "Why did you let Ronald get drunk in the middle of the week?" she asked without preamble.

"Good morning to you too," he muttered. It was way too early to get involved in Weasley-Granger drama, especially when all he wanted to do was lay back down in bed and maybe wank over the thought of Tim licking up –

"Harry!" His head jerked up. Bloody hell, he'd been fantasizing again.

"Sorry. And what do you mean, 'let him'? He's a grown man. He can go out for a drink during the week if he wants."

He could just make out Hermione's eyes narrowing through her projection in the fire. "It sounded like a lot more than one drink, and that's not even the point."

"What _is_ the point?" Harry asked, quickly growing irritated that he was being accosted over something as innocuous as a few drinks. Merlin, he wished Ron and Hermione would just get their shit together so he didn't have to be in the middle of everything all the time.

"I just don't like him being so intoxicated when he has work the next morning, that's all!" she snapped. But even through the flame, Harry could see something else behind her eyes.

"That's not all. You're afraid that something's going to happen, that he'll meet a girl or something while he's like that." He sat back on the rug and leaned back against an armchair, feeling pleased that he'd been the one to analyze _her_ for a change.

Hermione looked flummoxed. "When did you stop being oblivious to how people are really feeling?" she asked in a quiet voice.

Harry shrugged. "Had to happen sometime. So. Why did you two fall out this time?" He was enjoying not being on the other end of the microscope right now and would ride it out for as long as possible.

"He's just so…Ronald."

He couldn't help but guffaw. "Yes, Ron is certainly Ron."

The green of Hermione's face in the Floo changed to a lighter shade indicating her flush. "You know what I mean."

Harry sobered. He did understand. Sometimes Ron was a little too much to handle in large doses. And when combined with Hermione's somewhat overbearing nature, there were bound to be weekly, if not daily, blow-ups.

"I do. And if you ever need to vent, you know I'm here."

Hermione smiled finally, looking more like herself than she had when they started this conversation. "Thank you. And I'm sorry for being short with you before." She dropped her head a bit.

"Don't worry, you'll figure out a way to make it up to me," he grinned.

She chuckled. "You sure are in a good mood. Anything you want to share?" Her eyes were alight with mirth.

Harry tried his damnedest not to blush, but didn't think he was very successful when Hermione smirked.

"Nothing to share. Just got a good night's sleep is all." He felt a little queasy at the outright lie, but really didn't want to tell Hermione what had happened quite yet. Harry didn't imagine she would be upset or disgusted about him being with a man, but for right now this was his exciting secret and he didn't want to release all the details he knew she'd demand.

"Ok," she said with a smile. "But the offer goes both ways, you know. If there's something you want to talk about, I'm here."

Harry's heart warmed at the sentiment. "Thanks Mione."

"Anytime. So during the _brief_ conversation I had with Ronald, he mentioned that you're tutoring Draco Malfoy's son." Harry grasped at the change in conversation happily. Things were getting a little too soppy for his liking.

"Yeah, Scorpius. I start lessons with him at the Manor this afternoon."

_And I can't believe I just called it 'the Manor' like I go there all the time._ In fact the only time he'd ever been there was when –

He didn't want to think about it. And he didn't want to upset Hermione whose face had tightened.

"I see. Well, please be careful Harry. I know it's been a long time but…" her words trailed off.

"Old habits die hard. I know. I'll be careful, but I really don't think Malfoy would do anything stupidly dangerous when his son is there. I don't think he's quite as bad as Lucius."

_At least I hope not,_ he shuddered. Though Harry's war testimony had been enough to keep Narcissa out of Azkaban, the Wizengamot had not been so kind to Lucius. He was sentenced to a life term and he, Narcissa, and Draco probably all blamed Harry for not doing more to keep him out of prison. The thought of walking into that open animosity later today rattled him a bit, but he shook it off before Hermione could notice.

"Alright," she said. "I'll talk to you soon, yes?"

"I want you to talk to Ron before we speak again," he insisted.

"Yes, fine." She ended the connection, but not before Harry caught a tiny grin emerging on her face.

Harry sat motionless for a few minutes more, staring into the fire quietly and thinking about his friends, the Malfoys, and Tim. All combined, it was a lot to handle, but he could only tackle one issue at a time. Standing up, he pushed thoughts of dates and drama-filled relationships to the back of his mind. He would go and sort out a lesson plan for his training session with Scorpius.

* * *

Malfoy Manor looked different in the afternoon sunlight than it had that fateful day almost ten years ago. For one thing, Harry didn't fear for his life or the life of his friends. He didn't have any dark wizards chasing him (that he knew of), and the war had been over for quite some time.

Gone from the grounds were the majestic white peacocks, but the landscape was still impeccably maintained, nary a leaf or blade of grass out of place. Surprisingly, brightly-colored hydrangea bushes lined the front of the estate, pops of purple and blue detracting from the darkness of the edifice that loomed behind. Shouldering his broom, Harry found himself leaning over one of the flowering shrubs and caressing a petal gently with one finger. He wondered vaguely if the Malfoys had bewitched their plants to draw in unsuspecting or unwelcome visitors before delivering a fatal dose of poison.

"The garden _is_ quite lovely this time of year, wouldn't you agree Potter?" For the second time that day, Harry jumped at an unanticipated voice. He looked up to the front steps of the home and took note of Malfoy standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms folded, an unreadable expression on his face. Instead of the green robes he wore the last time Harry saw him, he was now dressed in brown khaki pants and a short-sleeved black button down that seemed exceedingly casual for a Malfoy to wear, even in their own home.

"It's beautiful," Harry agreed, not wanting to provoke Malfoy and still being wary of traps, verbal or otherwise.

"My mother became quite taken with gardening several years ago and took it up as a hobby to take her mind of off the stresses of trying to hold our family together. When she finally decided to leave the country I couldn't bear to change it. The house elves maintain it now, but it still reminds me of her."

Harry frowned. He couldn't remember hearing about Narcissa leaving England. More than that, he certainly didn't know why Malfoy was sharing this kind of information with him. Perhaps he was just looking to make Harry feel guilty that their family had been torn apart.

"Yes, well. It's charming nonetheless," Harry replied neutrally. "Is Scorpius ready for his lesson?" he asked. The sooner he got away from Malfoy, the sooner he could get on with his tutoring and get back to Grimmauld Place.

Malfoy looked at Harry carefully before responding. "He's on the pitch waiting for you. I'll escort you over." He stepped lightly down the stone steps and began following a path around the side of the property. Harry followed behind him gingerly, feeling the outline of his wand in his back pocket with the hand not carrying his broom. He was out of practice when it came to dueling, but not enough so that he wasn't certain he could draw his wand before Malfoy if it came down to it.

The pathway was lined on both sides by towering weeping willows, their hanging branches blocking off the view of anything behind the manor. After they ducked under several branches and emerged on the other side, Harry took in the Malfoy Quidditch pitch and grinned. It was smaller than the one at camp, with shorter goal posts and several comfortable benches on each side of the field for family members to watch, but it was obviously well-crafted. Scorpius was already about ten feet in the air with his back turned to them, tossing a Quaffle up in a random direction and then racing off to catch it before it fell to the ground. Beside him, Malfoy watched on with an odd mixture of pride and sadness.

"It's charmed to grow as he does," Malfoy stated without taking his attention from his son. "By the time he's ready for school it will expand to roughly the same size as the pitch at Hogwarts."

"That's a great idea," he admitted reluctantly. Malfoy looked over his shoulder and tossed Harry a smug grin.

"Naturally," he replied. Before Harry could protest that statement, he continued. "You may begin your lesson now. Scorpius is to come fetch me in my study if he needs me." With that, he walked back down the weeping willow path to the front of the house. Harry noted that he didn't say anything about if _Harry_ needed him and then laughed. Yeah, like he would ever need Malfoy for anything.

* * *

Scorpius was a really good flier. Harry had already noticed that from his time working with the beginner’s group this week, but seeing him on his own without all his other teammates around was something special. It made Harry wonder what he would have looked like had he been raised in the wizarding world and learned to ride a broom before the age of eleven. It would have given him more confidence for one. He could have gone into Hogwarts knowing that there was at least one thing he was good at.

Harry watched as Scorpius flew a figure-eight around where he sat hovering on his broom. "Great," he called out. "Now try the Anchor."

The boy's face screwed up in concentration as he ascended a few feet, sped forward in a straight line and then abruptly dropped down like a stone out of the field of play, broom still parallel with the ground.

"Brilliant, Scorpius!" Harry shouted with a genuine smile. "Do you want to move on to the patterns now, or do you want more practice on the plays?"

Scorpius flew back up to Harry's level and hovered in place next to him. "Actually, can we just fly together for a while?"

_What a sweet kid._

"Of course we can," Harry replied, throat a little tight with emotion.

At his words, Scorpius took off in the other direction leaving Harry to laugh and catch up with him. Harry teased him by flying corkscrews around Scorpius' broom.

"Stop!" the boy giggled. "You're making me dizzy."

A grin grew on Harry's face. "Stop what?" he questioned innocently. "This?" Harry went into 360-degree lateral rolls that grew faster and faster as he raced along. Bloody hell, he felt like a kid again.

Scorpius chased behind him trying to keep up, but simply couldn't pick up that kind of speed, even on his Summit 61. Finally, he pulled up on the broom, straightened himself out and turned to face Scorpius.

Now that they'd had their first lesson, it was time for Harry to move on to part two.

"So Scorpius, what house do you think you'll be in when you get to Hogwarts?" he asked easily.

"Slytherin, of course," he replied with no hesitation, the proud jut back in his chin.

"And why do you think that?" Harry asked, an expression of curiosity written on his face.

"Because I'm a Malfoy, and Malfoys are always in Slytherin." He sounded as if his father made him recite that very sentiment every night before bed.

Harry made a small sound of interest. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Scorpius' eyes widened slightly, and then narrowed again as if expecting a trick. It pained Harry to see such skepticism in such a young child. Nonetheless, he nodded for Harry to continue.

"Well," he began, "you can't tell anyone, but…I was actually supposed to be sorted into Slytherin."

The admission was worth the expression on Scorpius' face if nothing else. His jaw dropped open with plain astonishment. "No way. You're Harry Potter. My dad said you were in Gryffindor."

Harry smirked and wondered what other things Malfoy had told his son about him. "I was, but only because I asked to be put there."

"But- but why would anyone choose Gryffindor over Slytherin?"

Harry shrugged lightly and picked at a spot of dirt on the knee of his jeans. "I liked what they stood for better."

The boy's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "What do they stand for?"

"Gryffindors value bravery, courage, and justice. The same things that were important to the knights from medieval times." Harry wasn't sure if pure-bloods learned about Muggle knights, but Scorpius was suitably impressed.

"I think it would be brilliant to be a knight," he responded with a large smile.

Harry laughed. "Mind you, just because you're in Gryffindor doesn't make you a knight. But," he added conspiratorially, "the house ghost, Sir Nicholas is a knight."

"Wicked!" he exclaimed and then looked discomfited about his outburst. "But you're really brave too," Scorpius noted.

"How do you mean?" Harry asked, caught off guard by the compliment.

"Before my dad's mum moved away, she used to tell me how Harry Potter saved the world from a dark wizard and that you helped save our family by destroying him." Scorpius looked up at him in awe.

Harry's gaze softened. "She said that?"

He nodded emphatically.

"Well I - "

Scorpius moved closer to Harry on his broom and stuck out his right hand. "Thank you for saving my family."

Harry suddenly couldn't swallow but extended his hand and shook Scorpius'. The sincerity in his voice and the appreciation that showed on his face nearly moved Harry to tears. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision. It spoke volumes about Scorpius' character to see that no matter what he may have heard about half-bloods or Gryffindor in the past, he could look past it all to acknowledge someone who had helped the people he cared about.

Maybe he would end up in Gryffindor after all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Food, flirting, and fighting. Also, there's a bit of sexual content in this one.

Harry still wasn't breathing properly when he arrived home late Saturday afternoon. Scorpius' offer of thanks on behalf of the Malfoy family was sitting like an invisible weight on his chest, actively trying to cut off his air supply. Suffice it to say he was feeling a little…raw. In his mind's eye he could still see a pale hand reaching out in his direction, unconsciously asking Harry to settle the feud that had gone on for so long.

He chewed on his lip thoughtfully. How was it that a seven-year-old boy could ease years of loathing in a span of two hours? More to the point how was it that a seven-year-old boy who hadn't even been alive during the war could be braver than the adults in his family and extend his gratitude to Harry?

Shaking his head firmly, he tried to physically force his thoughts in another direction. Harry could only imagine what Malfoy would say if he found out what his son had done. His pure-blood pride would probably make him explode in rage. He snorted. It would be rather interesting to see blond Malfoy confetti floating down from the sky.

As Harry stepped through the front door and followed the hall directly into the kitchen, he found an unfamiliar owl waiting for him on the table. It wasn't Ron's or Hermione's or a Ministry owl. And it definitely wasn't Harry's own owl because he didn't have one. After the war he just couldn't bear to look for another. No owl could match the intelligence and grace of Hedwig.

For a moment his eyes grew wide and he thought he'd received a Howler from Malfoy already, but that wasn't his scary-ass eagle owl on the table. Instead, a barn owl with speckled feathers of dark brown ducked its head and hopped forward to present a letter. Harry tentatively ran his fingers through its crest and then untied the message.

"Aren't you a pretty girl?" he cooed. His visitor leaned her head back and nibbled at his fingers affectionately.

Grinning, Harry sat down with the note and began to read.

_Harry,_

_I'm not sure what your schedule looks like tonight but I'd really like to see you. I was thinking I could take you to a restaurant near my house that's pretty legendary. What do you say? Can I pick you up at eight?_

_By the way - I absolutely cannot stop thinking about our kiss yesterday. You made it hard for me to fall asleep last night…details later if you'd like them._

_Yours,_

_Tim_

The blush on Harry's cheeks was deep and quickly extended down his neck and chest. He had to close his eyes against the thought of Tim at home alone reminiscing about Harry, the way he'd been about to do this morning. A thrill ran through him and he felt himself hardening when his eyes fell over the last part of the letter again.

_Details later if you'd like them…_

Harry inhaled shakily. At this rate he would most assuredly need to wank before they went out, if for no other reason than to make sure he didn't embarrass himself with an untimely hard-on. Before heading up to his bedroom to take care of his problem, he turned the letter over and scrawled on the back.

_Tim,_

_I would love to go out tonight. Eight is perfect._

_As a side note, I've been thinking about the kiss as well. I'll share my details if you share yours._

_Fondly,_

_Harry_

He attached the message to Tim's owl and shooed her to the window with a pat and a treat. The bird had barely taken flight before Harry was thundering up the stairs, unbuttoning and shimmying out of his jeans along the way. He crossed the threshold of his bedroom and threw himself into bed, flat on his back. Offering up a quick prayer that Hermione didn't interrupt him this time, he rucked up his shirt and slid his fingers down his stomach lingeringly. The tips of his digits tangled in the coarse dark hair below his navel leading down to his now fully erect cock. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry knew that he wasn't quite ready for Tim to touch him in this fashion in real life, but for now he had no qualms with fantasizing about it.

Harry rubbed his erection through his black boxers, throwing his head back in contentment at the self-gratifying action. He imagined that it was Tim's hand rubbing him and teasing the head where an indecent amount of pre-come had accumulated through the fabric. Biting his upper lip between his teeth, he slipped his hand under the elastic and groaned. The coolness of his palm was a welcome reprieve from the intense heat emanating from his shaft. He made one slow stroke to the tip and formed a ring around the head with his fingers, fondling himself with decadent languor. As he thought about Tim's tongue winding around his own, he shifted his fist down to grasp the base of his cock. Harry made a little moaning sound and stroked himself up and down with a tight grip. The muscles of his ass and his hips made subtle thrusting motions in time with his ministrations. A whimper vibrated in his throat. Burning heat sprang to life in his belly, signaling his impending orgasm and causing fireworks to ignite throughout his body, starting in his groin and radiating outward like a starfish. Soon, the slickness of his cock, rapid stroking, and the idea of Tim participating, sent Harry careening over the edge. All of his muscles tightened as hot come spurted from between his fingers, coating his abdomen and thighs in the white fluid.

"Shit," he hissed between clenched teeth. He rode the convulsions, stroking all the while, until his body relaxed and went limp. Loud shuddering breaths racked Harry's lungs for several minutes, his heart fighting to take control and even out his pulse. Once his breathing had been regulated, he muttered a cleaning spell and set a Just in Time Chime for six-thirty. That would give him plenty of time to pick out an outfit and shower before Tim arrived. With a content smile on his face, Harry rolled over on his side to take a nap.

* * *

It was 7:55 and Harry was putting the finishing touches on his hair and clothing. After awakening from his nap there was a panicked moment where he honestly thought he didn't have anything proper to wear. He scoured his wardrobe and finally decided on a soft blue polo shirt that reminded Harry of Tim's eyes. He left the topmost button undone at the collar, showing a patch of skin that he hoped Tim would find enticing. The shirt, paired with simple black slacks, made Harry feel more put-together than he'd felt in ages. He now stood in the dark granite-laden bathroom attached to his bedroom and assessed his reflection in the mirror.

_Presentable._

Using a judicious hand, he applied a small bit of Muggle cologne that he'd grown accustomed to wearing for special occasions. It held notes of Spanish sage and silver armoise that settled around Harry in a fresh, natural mist. Finally, he ran a hand through his mostly-dry hair to get it to stay in place, at least for the next five minutes.

Satisfied with his appearance, Harry walked out of the bathroom and heard a knock at the front door. He jogged down the staircase to the foyer and promptly tripped over the last step.

_Calm down. You can't go on the date if you concuss yourself first._

Harry had adjusted the wards around Grimmauld Place in anticipation for this evening, so when he arrived at the entrance and cracked opened the door, Tim stood on the stoop holding a small gift box. And he looked…

_Delicious._

He blushed a little at the adjective, but truthfully couldn't think of one more appropriate. Tim was wearing a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up at the elbow, exposing tanned forearms from all their work outside at the camp. His dark gray slacks were fitted without being tight and acutely hugged particular areas in a way that made Harry lick his lips. Heart racing wildly, he pulled the door open all the way.

"Hi Tim."

Tim's eyes widened a little and Harry was briefly concerned that he had spilled something on his shirt or that his collar was askew. However, Tim followed up the stare with a large smile and spoke.

"Harry, you look great."

A rush of pleasure filtered through Harry's blood at the compliment. By this stage in his life with people still trying to get in good with 'the Savior,' he could always tell if praise directed toward him was genuine or not. In this case, Tim was telling the absolute truth.

"Thanks. You do too." _Even if 'great' is the understatement of the year._

Tim smiled and extended his hand for Harry to shake, but he bypassed the proffer and reached his arms around to embrace him in a light hug. Tim sighed and relaxed in his arms. He was wearing the same cologne he'd worn at Bacchus Bar and Harry inhaled the musky scent deeply. Stepping back, he smiled at Tim again and noted the box he held.

"What's that you've got there?" Harry asked.

A light blush covered Tim's face. "Right, sorry. This is for you." He handed over a royal blue box that had gold swirls adorning the corners. Harry lifted up the lid curiously and stared down at the gift. Emerald eyes lit up.

"Chocolate Frogs! Brilliant!"

Tim chuckled. "You didn't seem like the type of bloke that would want flowers and I remembered you talking about Honeydukes a few times at work so…"

"Thank you Tim." Harry leaned forward and pressed a small kiss on his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth.

"You're welcome. Now, are you ready to experience the most mouth-watering, delectable meal that has ever crossed your lips?"

Harry's eyes darkened instantly with less than pure thoughts, but he chuckled and replied. "I am. Let's go."

With a swift, but effective locking charm and the raising of his wards, Harry took Tim's arm and led him down to the Apparition point at the end of the block.

* * *

Harry was seriously beginning to regret being so flirtatiously outgoing with Tim. Their date was turning out to be...interesting. Don't get him wrong, he was having a nice time and The Trevuo Room was absolutely gorgeous. The eatery was airy with an open floor-plan, strongly resembling a Muggle patio. Three of the four walls of the restaurant were open to the elements, sheer pale green panels tied back to white columns so that diners could view the leafy paradise beyond. All of the furniture was composed of dark wicker topped with sea-foam cushions and pillows, with the exception of the light marble table tops. Large exotic potted plants seemed to fill every corner of the room; even the tables were dotted with small vases of hibiscus. A simple medium-colored wood covered the floor, reflecting the lazily-turning ceiling fans above in its shine.

No, it was the conversation that was worrisome. Harry had always enjoyed small talk with Tim at work and during the occasional Diagon Alley runs they had to make for Quidditch supplies. But in a romantic setting, his coworker was less of a lighthearted crush and more of a hungry animal.

As soon as they sat down Tim had gushed about the incredible food, but at the same time maintained a glint in his eye that made Harry's insides clench up.

"Well, thank you for bringing me here. It means a lot that you would invite me somewhere that means so much to you." Harry's fingers tapped nervously along the side of the bamboo-edged menu while they waited for the server.

"Of course." Tim's eyes took on a richer shade of blue as he gazed at Harry with admiration. "You deserve the best."

Harry blushed and went back to reviewing the menu.

When it came time to order, his eyes darted over the options trying to find something. He'd been too preoccupied with Tim's expressions to really notice the selection. "Can I have the pepper-crusted bison tenderloin and a mimosa please?"

"Good choice," Tim said after the waiter was gone.

Harry grinned weakly. "I just picked something at random. I've been distracted."

A puzzled expression fell over Tim's face. "Distracted by what?"

"Well, you. You keep looking at me like…" Harry let his sentence trail off.

"Like what?" Tim asked, his voice definitely growing more seductive.

He hesitated. "Like _I_ should be on the menu."

Tim blushed but his tone didn't change. "It's not my fault. You're rather distracting yourself, you know. I told you in my letter that I had a right time falling asleep last night."

Anticipation jumped in Harry's stomach. "You did say that. And I think you also mentioned something about details," he muttered. Had it been too soon to jump into all the sexual innuendo with Tim? For Merlin's sake, he'd just kissed a bloke for the first time the day before.

Tim's eyes darkened even further. "I did. But I don't think I can tell you about those right now."

"Not proper dinner conversation?" Harry tried.

"Not at all," Tim laughed. "But I also really love coming here, and if we started talking about that I don't know how long I'd be able to remember my manners. Don't want to get kicked out for inappropriate behavior."

Harry was torn. While he felt a distinct tightening in his groin at Tim's insinuation, he wasn't ready for much more than heavy snogging. He licked his lips in an attempt to gain some control over his body, but couldn't quite manage it.

Taking a shuddering breath, he thanked the heavens that the waiter was coming back with their orders.

"Here you are gentlemen. Is there anything else I can get you right now?"

Harry didn't trust himself to speak yet and just shook his head. Tim however, seemed to be just peachy.

"This is fine, thank you."

"Enjoy." The waiter gave a short bow and headed back toward the kitchen.

Harry spent several moments pulling himself back together, oblivious to the sound of Tim's cutlery scraping across the plate.

"Harry?" he asked finally. He brought himself out of his reverie and jerked his head up to look at Tim questioningly.

Tim looked concerned. "Are you alright? You haven't even looked at your food."

Harry stared blankly at the cut of meat on the plate in front of him. It looked delectable. Agitated, he shook his head slightly and tried to rein in his apprehension. He needed to get his mind off feeling hunted and focus on enjoying his evening. It wouldn't do for him to play shy now.

"I'm fine, sorry. Everything looks wonderful." He picked up his knife and fork and began cutting into his meal enthusiastically.

They ate in companionable silence for a while until Tim spoke again. "Are you thinking about getting dessert? Maybe we could share something?" he added.

Harry's stomach groaned at the thought of even more food. He hadn't even really made a dent in his tenderloin. But Tim looked so bloody hopeful.

"I'll just have a few bites of whatever you get," Harry said amiably.

Tim grinned. "I have the perfect thing in mind." He waved a hand in the air, beckoning to the waiter. When the man appeared at their table Tim had him lean over so that he could whisper in his ear. The waiter listened closely and then nodded.

"An excellent choice sir. I'll be right back with your selection."

Tim beamed, which made Harry all the more guarded. He hoped that his blue-eyed companion hadn't ordered something ostentatious or worse, something that required better table manners than Harry possessed.

"What are you up to?" he asked with eyes narrowed.

Tim smiled sweetly, his face adopting an angelic expression. "Ordering dessert."

"Sure," Harry said sarcastically but decided to let it go. He would find out what was going on soon enough. "That was excellent dinner, this place is magnificent."

"I was hoping you would like it."

"Though I'll probably have to put in an extra hard workout at camp on Monday so I don't turn into a blob."

Tim chuckled. "The Blob Who Lived."

Harry guffawed and relaxed. This was the kind of atmosphere he had first anticipated. Easy conversation, jokes, and light flirting. Not the heated stares and hungry looks he'd encountered so far.

When the waiter returned, a large bowl filled with mango custard topped with chopped strawberries, blackberries, and kiwis floated by his side. It looked impressive.

The waiter had the bowl land directly in the middle of the table with a flourish. He provided two large spoons and placed them next to the dessert.

"Enjoy," he repeated and returned to his post.

Tim looked at Harry with teasing eyes. "I hope you can have more than a few bites of this. It's really amazing."

Harry ignored the protests of his stomach and focused on the treat in front of him. It did look tempting. Maybe he could just try a few bites…

"Come sit next to me," Tim said, pulling Harry out of his food-induced trance.

Harry looked at him nervously and then peered around the restaurant. There were a few other couples there, but they were engrossed in their own meals and not paying any attention to Harry's table. Uncertainly, Harry stood up from his seat, edged around the table with his chair and then settled in next to Tim.

"What are you doing?" he asked his green eyes awash with caution.

"Making you try this custard, here." Tim dipped one of the spoons into the confection and it slipped in easily. He scooped out a medium-sized portion and then offered it out to Harry for him to taste.

Heart picking up its pace, Harry slowly leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the spoon, trying his best not to look at Tim as he sucked his serving into his mouth and licked his lips. The cool cream melted on his tongue, and though he could feel a gaze boring into him, Harry didn't look up.

Without speaking, Tim dipped into the bowl for another scoop and this time raised it to his own mouth. Harry chanced a glimpse at his date only to see him lick the underside of the spoon to catch any droplets and then take the small helping into his mouth. Finally, his eyes slid shut and he gave a little moan of pleasure. Harry's mouth dried out and he peered at Tim through glazed eyes as Tim reopened his and locked onto Harry's face.

"Sinful, isn't it?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Absolutely," Harry whispered.

They spent several minutes with Tim alternating between feeding Harry and himself from the bowl of custard, until Harry felt ready to burst from either food or desire.

"I think I've had enough for tonight," Harry said quietly, as Tim licked another spoonful of dessert into his mouth. Harry followed the movement closely with his eyes.

"Aw, no more fun then?" Tim asked, pouting. Damn if he didn't look adorable doing that.

"I – I can't handle it tonight," Harry stammered.

Tim laughed. "Fair enough. I'll ask for the check."

As he flagged down the waiter, Harry scooted back over to the other side of the table. Within a few minutes, Tim had paid for the meal (there was only a brief disagreement where Harry insisted on paying the next time), and they were walking toward the front of the establishment.

"So are you really ready to call it quits, or are you up for a little walk amongst the flowers?" Tim asked as they walked through the entryway and into the fresh night air.

Harry followed Tim's line of sight and his eyes fell on a small but elegant park connected to the side of the building. Stone benches were scattered throughout the area, illuminated by red round Chinese lanterns that hovered in mid-air.

"I don't know about a walk," Harry began, rubbing his expanded belly. "But I could use a rest on one of those benches over there."

"That works for me as well," Tim agreed.

Placing a hand on the small of Harry's back, Tim guided him over to the seating area and they sat close together, thighs touching. Harry placed a tentative hand on Tim's knee and said, "I had a really fantastic time tonight. Thank you so much."

Tim waved him off. "The pleasure was mine, believe me." He placed his hand on top of the one on his knee. "And speaking of pleasure…"

Harry grinned at the transition, but was inwardly becoming weary of feeling preyed upon. "Yes?" he questioned.

Tim's eyes grew as dark as Harry had ever seen them. "Can we talk about what we each did when we went home last night?"

He bit his lip in a self-conscious manner. "I suppose so. I fell asleep last night, but I wanked this afternoon," he blurted. "What about you?"

Tim wore an incredulous expression that made Harry hide a smile.

"Did you really -" Tim started. "You wanked right before I picked you up?" he asked, a blush actually tingeing his cheeks. Harry could just make it out in the dim glow of the lanterns.

He laughed. "Well not _right_ before. I did take a shower and such after."

"Wanking and showers. You're trying to kill me Harry." Tim dragged a hand through his short hair in a rough approximation of Harry's own familiar gesture.

"No, I thought we were just sharing," Harry stated innocently.

Tim's eyes gleamed. "Ok, let me share then."

Harry took a deep breath.

"I'd been rock hard most of the day ever since we kissed. When I got in bed I pulled myself off slowly while thinking of you and what you could do to me. And when I came," Tim paused for effect. "It was like I was riding a comet." Tim's hand still rested on Harry's, but now his fingers were making little circling motions around Harry's knuckles.

"That's um – that's…a good story," Harry said weakly, beginning to tremble under Tim's touch.

"It doesn't have to just be a story," Tim whispered. He moved close to Harry and brought his lips down to brush against the brunette's. "Care to have a reenactment?"

Harry shuddered as Tim closed the gap and began to kiss him in earnest. He felt overwhelmed. There was so much fire and desire in Tim's words and movements it felt like he was falling into an inferno. His breath left him in a whoosh as Tim brought a hand to the back of Harry's head to deepen the kiss. He inhaled sharply and idly wondered if the patrons inside the restaurant could see what they were doing. Probably not. The trees and plants that surrounded the seating area were thick and provided good cover for activities such as these.

Tim seemed to be emboldened by the sense of privacy and peppered kisses down Harry's chin and jaw, making his breath come deeper and his eyes slide shut. A tingling sensation began low in Harry's stomach and he shuddered. He moved his hand from Tim's knee and up to his shoulder. Meanwhile, Tim had begun sucking at the portion of Harry's collarbone that he could reach under the collar of his shirt.

"Shit Harry, I want you so much," he muttered against Harry's warm skin.

_Dear Merlin, I'm going to come in my pants..._

"Tim, stop." Harry's voice sounded as though he'd been running a marathon in the heat of the Sahara.

Tim looked up at him through glazed eyes. "What's wrong?" his voice was slurred as though he'd been drinking heavily.

Harry took a deep breath. "I think we should stop. I - I'm getting a little too hot," he murmured.

Tim buried his nose into the hair behind Harry's ear and sighed. "Ok. Let me get you home." Tim stood up and held out his hand for Harry to grasp. He took a composing breath and allowed Tim to bring him to his feet.

"Right. Let's go."

Harry and Tim walked back down to the Apparition point in silence and popped back onto the corner of Grimmauld Place. As they grew closer to the front door he could acutely feel a presence rapping against the wards. He stared hard at Number 12. Bloody hell, there was a figure on the stoop waiting for him.

Harry automatically shielded Tim from the intruder, throwing his body forward and had his wand in hand in the blink of an eye.

"Who's there?" Harry asked with a tone of authority from his spot on the sidewalk. A familiar voice grated on his ears.

"Potter! What the fuck have you been teaching my son?"

* * *

Harry dropped his head in dismay. _Of course_ Malfoy would show up to ruin the rest of Harry's evening. Merlin forbid he actually have a nice chaste kiss at the door like the end of any proper date.

Oh, who was he kidding? He probably would have had to fight Tim off and Stun him from trying to come inside.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" Harry asked resignedly. He stepped up onto the stoop and cast a variation of Lumos that turned the spot of light at the end of his wand into a glowing ball to float above their heads. On the ground, Harry could see the shadow from Tim's form, still stood on the sidewalk behind him.

"I'm interested in knowing what the fuck you think you're playing at teaching my son to be a bloody Gryffindor!" Even in the low light, Harry could see a bright fury sparked in Malfoy's eyes.

Harry abruptly felt heat on his back as Tim moved up the stairs to stand behind him, probably wanting to protect Harry from Malfoy's harsh tone. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves.

"Malfoy," he tried again. "Could we please talk about this later? I'm just getting home and in case you couldn't tell, I have company."

Malfoy looked over Harry's shoulder and seemed to notice Tim's presence for the first time. He looked back to Harry, took note of something on his neck and then cocked an eyebrow. Harry blushed a deep red as he realized that Malfoy must be looking at the love bite Tim left in the wake of his passion.

"As intrigued as I am by this little situation," he waved a finger between Harry and Tim, "I would much rather discuss what you're teaching my son under the guise of Quidditch lessons." He folded his arms defiantly.

"You should be lucky that Harry's taking the time to do _anything_ for your son, Death Eater!"

Shit. Tim was not helping.

Malfoy opened his mouth to respond to Tim's comment, but Harry cut him off before he had the opportunity to start a row.

"Stop," Harry said to Malfoy, holding a hand up for silence. Surprisingly enough, Malfoy closed his mouth, though he still had an imperious look about his face.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to face Tim.

"I had a really good time tonight." Harry pitched his voice low in hopes that only Tim could hear, though he had a sneaking feeling that Malfoy was listening intently. "And I'm sorry about this," he said, jerking his head in Malfoy's direction. "But I'll see you on Monday, yeah?" he asked hopefully.

Tim glanced once over Harry's shoulder and seemed to be thinking deeply about something. He then turned back to Harry and said, "Of course. Thanks for coming out with me." He leaned his head down questioningly and Harry understood the inquiry. He wanted to know if it was ok to kiss him in front of Malfoy.

If for no other reason than spite, Harry took a deep breath and brushed his lips against Tim's. He could hear a small surprised gasp from behind him and bit back a smile. Harry ignored the blond and trailed a finger down one of Tim's hands.

"I had fun too," Tim said finally and pecked Harry's lips again, just because he could. He threw a smug grin at Malfoy before replying. "See you at work."

"Ok, goodnight," Harry said as Tim walked down the steps and toward the Apparition point.

"Night," Tim said. He threw a final smile at Harry before leaving his line of sight. He ignored Malfoy altogether.

Harry sighed and then turned back to his unexpected guest. The blond was staring at him with a quizzical expression.

"What?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.

"I just didn't – never mind. I'm here to talk about Scorpius."

Harry tried not to smile. He really did. But the rage that was rapidly moving across Malfoy's face was too priceless not to react to. He finally settled on cracking a grin. "What about Scorpius?"

"You know bloody well what I'm-" he stopped abruptly. "Can we talk about this inside?"

It was Harry's turn to quirk an eyebrow. "You'd sully your pristine Malfoy blood by entering my house?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "I sully my pristine Malfoy blood by allowing my son in your camp. Surely I won’t perish by stepping foot in your abode. Besides, this house is technically closer to my blood than yours anyway. Maybe _you_ should be the one concerned."

Harry flushed a little. He sometimes forgot that the Blacks were part of Malfoy's family.

"Fine." Harry stepped past Malfoy and lowered the wards while unlocking the front door with his wand. He pushed the door open and held an arm out, gesturing for Malfoy to enter first.

"Well at least you have _some_ manners," Malfoy sniffed and stepped tentatively into Number 12.

Harry entered behind him, locked the door and wards back, and then led Malfoy into the living room. With a flick of his wand, he lit the fireplace, the flames rapidly warming the vicinity. He dropped into an overstuffed green armchair right near the hearth and motioned for Malfoy to have a seat across from him. The blond’s eyes ran searchingly over the chair opposite Harry and then sat down in one smooth movement.

"So you wanted to talk. Talk," Harry said, impatience taking over and fatigue starting to set in. It was nearing 11pm and he was exhausted.

"I don't think I have to tell you that I don't appreciate your insubordination while teaching my son," Malfoy began tersely.

"It's not insubordination," Harry began, silently confessing that he'd done something a _little_ off the level. "I was merely talking to him about what house he wanted to be in."

"And he said Slytherin, obviously. But then you just had to go and get your damned Gryffindor ideals in his head. Do you know he's walking around now talking about being a bloody knight of the round table? What the hell does that even mean?"

Harry chuckled even though he knew he shouldn't have. Malfoy shot him a death glare and he quieted.

"Look Malfoy, it's not a big deal. He's not going to Hogwarts for another four years. Don't you think he'll have forgotten about all this by then? Kids grasp onto an idea for about two hours and then they're on to the next."

"Look _Potter_ ," Malfoy retorted, echoing Harry's previous opening. "I don't want you spreading your Gryffindor rhetoric while you're teaching my son. You're there for Quidditch lessons, that's all. Are we clear?"

Harry decided to ignore Malfoy’s imperious tone. Harry was not a child despite the fact that he worked with them all day. "What if Scorpius doesn't end up in Slytherin? Or chooses to be in another house?" Harry asked. He was truly curious as to what Malfoy would say.

"Then he would be letting down generations of Malfoys who have all been sorted into Slytherin. And what do you mean what if he ‘chooses’ another house? It's not like you get your pick."

A sly grin slid onto Harry's face. "Oh I would beg to differ."

Malfoy frowned and then the expression was replaced by one of disbelief. "Surely you're not trying to say that you _chose_ to be in Gryffindor and the Sorting Hat just allowed it?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. And you'll never believe where it wanted me to go."

Malfoy stared at him for a moment, genuine confusion crossing his features. And then everything clicked into place. "No." He shook his head. "You - you were supposed to be in Slytherin? And you chose Gryffindor instead?"

Harry laughed. "You know, you look remarkably like your son when you're questioning my childhood decisions."

Malfoy just stared at him. "Why were you so against Slytherin? You weren't even brought up in the wizarding world."

Harry chewed his lower lip. "Honestly?"

Malfoy just nodded.

A large breath gusted past Harry's lips. "After meeting you in Madam Malkin’s, you were just so arrogant and haughty...I didn't want to be in a house with people who shared opinions like the ones you hold."

Steel gray eyes narrowed dangerously. "So when it came time to be sorted, you declined Slytherin because you didn't want to be in the same house as me." It wasn't a question, but Harry nodded anyhow.

The blond’s lips tightened into a straight line and then he stood up from the armchair. "Right. I suppose that's why you wouldn't shake my hand on the train then." Another declarative statement in place of a question. There was a look that entered Malfoy’s eyes that Harry couldn't read. If he didn't know any better, he'd say it was...hurt?

Harry's chest tightened. He hadn't meant to offend Malfoy. Well, he had, but not like this. He only wanted to get under his skin a bit by teasing Scorpius.

"Malfoy, I-" Harry began.

Malfoy cut him off with a small shake of his head. He drew himself up straight and stared right into Harry's eyes. "Forget it. Refrain from teaching my son about any more of your do-gooder ideals and I'll refrain from showing up at your home and ruining your evening with your little boyfriend."

Before Harry could say that Tim wasn't his boyfriend, Malfoy had stalked over to the front door and let himself out. The way the door shut quietly was almost worse than if it had slammed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry seeks a little help from his friends.
> 
> *Note: Draco's canon wife is Astoria Greengrass, but for the purposes of my story, I chose to use an OFC named Larissa. That is all.

"Tell me you're not _actually_ concerned about Malfoy's feelings? After all of the foul shit that he's done to us over the years? Who _cares_ if he was upset? He deserves what he gets," Ron concluded.

Harry sighed. After having a lengthy heart to heart with Hermione on Saturday, Ron had invited him over early Sunday afternoon for a celebratory get-together, only this time without thumping music and Firewhisky. It seemed like the couple had patched things up for the time being and Harry would appreciate every peaceful moment he could glean from it.

The sitting room of Ron's flat was simple and comfortable. Two pale blue couches faced each other perpendicular to the fireplace with a storage ottoman between them that doubled as a coffee table. Harry was currently leaned up against one of the bookcases that flanked the hearth. He didn't quite feel like sitting down and relaxing yet. Ron however, was sprawled on the couch furthest from Harry, feet propped up on the ottoman like a pampered king.

Harry had explained to Ron about how he came home to find Malfoy on his front step and the exchange that followed. He conveniently left out the small fact that he was coming home from a date when divulging that information. It was enough dealing with Malfoy and Tim's behavior; he didn't want to give Ron a coronary in the midst of everything else.

After blustering at the fact that Malfoy had the audacity to show up at Harry's house in the first place, and at such a late hour to boot, the redhead was now focused on the actual conversation they'd managed to have before Malfoy stormed out. Well, not stormed out as much as gusted gracefully through the entryway. He shook his head at the description. Merlin, he was going mad.

"I know," Harry said finally, agreeing with his friend that Malfoy had been an unsavory character for much of the time they'd known him. "But it was different this time. Not like how it was when we were kids. You know we used to love being able to one-up him."

That much was true. Harry knew for a fact that if he'd had the same conversation with Malfoy when they were still at Hogwarts, or even shortly thereafter, he would have been glowing with pride that he'd been able to wound the Slytherin so thoroughly. Now though...

Perhaps they were all just growing up. Or maybe Harry just hadn't been as good at reading facial expressions in school as he was now. Had he ever caught a glimpse of real emotion flittering across Malfoy's face, but just didn't recognize it through the icy facade? Would he have said half the things he did if he'd ever noticed sadness on those features?

He thought back to the moments before he'd cast the Sectumsempra curse in the boy's bathroom. Malfoy had been vulnerable then, crying and crushed by the pressures of trying to live up to Voldemort's demands and those of Lucius as well. Briefly, he imagined what would have happened if he'd tried to actually talk to the blond instead of reaching for his wand.

That one was easy. He would have been flat on his back, dead or worse for daring to be in the same room alone with Malfoy. Still, Harry felt his stomach knot up with latent guilt.

Ron stood up, crossed the room and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. After so many years of friendship, he could feel, rather than see Harry's discomfort. "Mate. You didn't do anything wrong. It's his own fault for being a little git. Maybe if he'd acted like someone decent when we were kids things would be different now.”

Harry couldn't even begin to explain how badly he wished they were.

In an effort to get his mind off such a solemn topic, Ron had soon coaxed Harry into sitting down on the couch and enjoying some pasties and snacks while chatting about work. Shortly after the war, Ron had entered a position at the Ministry of Magic, apparently not wanting to be left behind while Hermione joined the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. Ron was part of the Department of Magical Transportation in Broom Regulatory Control, though Harry could never remember if that meant checking the brooms themselves for proper safety features or controlling the regulations on proper broom use.

Ron was three-quarters of the way into a story about a jinxed broom darting dangerously through the Ministry offices of its own accord when a familiar head poked into the fireplace.

"Mione!" Ron called happily and clambered to the hearth. "What are you doing here?"

Hair that was no longer quite so bushy filled up most of the small fireplace. "I just wanted to come see you, but if you're busy - oh hello Harry!"

He raised a hand in her direction. "Hi Hermione," he greeted.

"I can come back later," she started, looking to Ron to make the final decision.

"No, come through! Harry doesn't mind, do you mate?"

Harry managed not to roll his eyes and gave a defeated grin. "Course not."

Ron's face lit up as he turned back to face Hermione and extended a hand to pull her through the Floo.

She was out a few seconds later, wiping her feet on the rug next to the hearth and smiling at both men.

"What are you two up to?" she asked, sitting down and reaching for a bag of crisps on the ottoman.

Ron settled next to her on the couch, throwing an arm around her shoulders and kissing her gently on the cheek.

Harry smirked. When they made up, they really made up.

"Just talking. I was telling Harry about this jinxed broom at work that -"

"That was _your_ department? I heard about that. What happened exactly?" Hermione asked.

Ron beamed as though he'd been waiting a lifetime for someone to ask him just that question.

"Well, I was sorting through paperwork, as usual, when I heard this huge crash…"

Harry's mind drifted off at Ron's words, not wanting to listen to the story for a second time, especially when he hadn't even heard how it ended the first go round. Instead, he analyzed the soft looks that Hermione gave Ron. As he relayed his tale, which was somehow growing more embellished during this re-telling, Hermione looked politely interested, but there was something else in her eyes that shined behind that. It looked like a combination of well-natured weariness and fondness.

A part of Harry's heart wrenched. That was what he wanted. Someone to look at him with that look that said, 'even though you're a prat, I still care about you and want to be with you.' He didn't know if Tim could be that person. True, it had only been one date, but other than awe and hunger, Harry hadn't seen much else in the icy orbs.

He tried to get himself together and pull back from the negative thoughts as he heard Ron finishing up his story, but was still caught off guard when Hermione asked, "So what's been new with you Harry? All we've heard about lately is Malfoy and camp. Are you going out, seeing anyone?"

She looked at him with an expression that anyone else would call innocence, but Harry recognized that glint in her gaze. She was still remembering his elated disposition from when she spoke with him after he'd kissed Tim. And it was bloody unfair for her to start this conversation in front of Ron. He would _not_ be double-teamed, damn it, and he was determined to avoid discussing it for as long as possible.

"Nothing. No one." He was trying for an offhand and casual tone, but it came off rather unconvincingly.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked. "You seemed happier than I've seen you in a while yesterday."

Yesterday. Already the excitement he'd felt about his first kiss with Tim felt like eons ago.

During his quiet thoughts, his friends exchanged a look from across the room. One that clearly read, 'let's humor Harry, our good friend, and pretend we don't know something's going on. And in the meantime, we'll torture him by looking at each other lovingly and remind him that it's something he'll never have.'

"Can I ask you both a question?"

Harry couldn't take it anymore, and though he wasn't sure how his friends would react to his probing, he had to ask.

"Course mate. What's on your mind?" Ron encouraged.

How to begin?

Harry took a deep breath. "What was it like when you two first started dating?"

Hermione frowned. "How do you mean?"

"I mean, was there a lot of…sexual tension right at the beginning? Like you couldn't think about anything else when you were near each other?"

His inquiry was met with silence. "Never mind," he muttered with a blush, incredibly self-conscious for even bringing this up. It was ridiculous. Why had he thought this might be a good idea?

"No, don't get all embarrassed, just hang on." Hermione bit her lip in thought while Ron just looked perplexed.

"It wasn't like that straight away, not really," she mused. "It was more of a gradual thing, you know. Handholding here and there, sweet kisses. We didn't start to feel the…er…'tension' until later."

"How much later?" Harry asked with a frown.

"I don't know. Two, maybe three weeks."

Hm.

"Who are you lusting over Harry?" Ron prodded, leaning forward eagerly. Damn him for finally catching on to the conversation.

"Is it the same person that had you so happy yesterday?" Hermione asked with a full grin on her face now.

Fuck.

"I – no one," he fumbled. "It's nothing. I was just curious, really."

Hermione looked at him skeptically. "You were curious about how much Ronald and I wanted to have sex at the beginning of our relationship," she said flatly.

It did sound rather absurd when she put it like that. He was going to have to dig up a better excuse if he didn't want his friends thinking he was depraved.

"I just wanted to know if that was normal, to only want to have sex in the beginning. Almost like animals?"

"Animals? Bloody hell Harry, who is this girl?" Ron's mouth gaped open as though wondering where Harry would have met someone like that.

Thankfully, Hermione spoke before Harry could come up with some semblance of a believable lie.

"Shush Ronald. What I mean to say is, it wasn't _just_ sex. Of course we thought about it, but we were doing other things too. Enjoying each other's company, going to Quidditch matches, that sort of thing. You have to get to know the person first Harry. At least if you're trying to start a real relationship." She stared at him softly, as though trying to coax the truth out of him with her doe-brown eyes.

It wasn't going to work on him though. At least not today.

"I just," he exhaled sharply. "Alright. I did go out on a date -"

Ron grinned and opened his mouth.

"But. I'm not ready to talk about it yet. I just wanted to get an opinion from a couple."

At the word 'couple' Hermione squeezed Ron's hand that dangled over her shoulder and treated him to another soft glance. Ron looked back and kissed her on the cheek before turning round to face Harry.

"I wouldn't worry about anything mate. Just take things slow and everything should be fine," he said earnestly.

Harry nodded with a soft smile and then stood up. "I should get going."

Hermione and Ron were in a lovey-dovey mood now and the last thing he wanted was to be the third wheel. Besides, he had some things to think about.

* * *

Far too soon it was Monday morning and time for work again. Damn. Why did it seem like every time he needed to go to camp, he could think of ten-thousand reasons to stay at home?

_Probably because you got romantically involved with your coworker, you great idiot._

Cringing, Harry dragged himself out of bed (without Kreacher's assistance this time, thank you) and got ready for the day. Despite his reluctance to go in, he Apparated to work, strode confidently into the office, and was rewarded with a pair of smiling faces.

A large smile grew on Harry's face as well when he caught sight of Allie and Phil. "Thank Merlin you're both back." Harry clapped Phil on the shoulder and planted a small kiss on Allie's cheek. "Feeling better?" he asked her kindly.

"Loads," she replied. "What have we missed?"

The part of his brain that was slowly going mad wanted to say, "Well Allie, while you were gone, Tim and I snogged in front of the equipment shed and then he took me out on a date and tried to eat me alive."

Instead, he settled for, "Not much."

Harry spent some time bringing them up to speed on the lesson plans and was already sitting at his desk, absentmindedly shuffling papers when Tim came in. His eyes automatically flickered to the doorway. He couldn't help it. Tim entered the room and smiled at him softly. Harry offered his own weak smile and turned his head back down to his desk.

Tim of course, after making small talk with Allie and Phil, sat on the edge of Harry's desk and whispered seductively, "Morning boss."

"Morning," Harry replied in an equally soft tone.

"What's on the agenda for today?"

Harry breathed noisily. "Um. As you know, Phil and Allie are back so you and I can go back to working with the advanced group."

Tim gave a shark-like smile. "Excellent. Marco is a great guy and all but," he turned to make sure no one else in the office was listening to him. "He's not as...talented as you." He tossed Harry a lascivious wink.

Harry cleared his throat. "Right. So, the coaching teams are back in order. You just have to get me caught up with what you and Marco worked on last week."

For the next several moments, Harry listened while Tim went over where the oldest group had left off on Friday. He relaxed a little more as Sophia and Marco came in, fairly certain that Tim wouldn't try anything untoward with so many people around. Now he just needed to get through the rest of the day.

* * *

Harry's brain hurt. It shouldn't take so much mental power to smile politely through sexual innuendos and blazing stares. And yet it did. He could seriously do with a Headache Potion right now. Tim had seemed content to let their group practice mainly on their own and decided to sidle up to Harry on his broom and whisper inappropriate suggestions in his ear.

_What a mess._

"Oh, so I meant to ask you. How did things go with that asshole Malfoy on Saturday? Did you hex him into oblivion?" Tim asked, a malicious smile on his face.

They were just about done for the day and the kids were playing pickup games in the last few minutes before waiting for their parents to arrive.

"Shh!" Harry hushed him angrily, whirling around to make sure Scorpius wasn't in the vicinity. He couldn't stand to see the look on the little boy's face if he overheard someone talking badly about his father.

Tim looked at him blankly. "Don't worry. His kid isn't here today."

Harry's stomach dropped. "He's not? Is he alright?" He continued searching the pitch for the pale boy, hoping Tim was mistaken and he was really racing along on his broom, hidden by one of the taller campers.

An unreadable expression accompanied Tim's retort. "How should I know?"

Harry gritted his teeth in anger. "Stop being a git Tim. Malfoy can be an idiot, but Scorpius is just a kid."

Merlin, he was being annoying.

"Whatever. I don't know where he is Harry. I've been here with you all day." With that, Tim stalked away to begin gathering up scattered supplies and taking them into the shed.

Harry frowned and worried about Scorpius for the remainder of the day. He had even checked with Allie before going home and they hadn't gotten an owl saying that the boy wouldn't be coming that day.

The next day, he grew even more concerned about Scorpius when he still couldn't spot the mass of blond hair amongst all the flying children. Something akin to panic was setting in. He hoped that Malfoy wasn't taking his anger with Harry out on Scorpius. But knowing the overly-sensitive git, that was probably exactly what he was doing.

Harry began to seethe with anger. Malfoy knew how much Scorpius enjoyed coming to camp. It wasn't fair to make Scorpius suffer just because he was.

As he'd come to find out, Harry didn't handle injustice well. In fact, he handled it so poorly, that as soon as camp was over that day, he dodged Tim's questions about another date and found himself outside Malfoy Manor, hammering on the front door.

A diminutive house elf answered the door shortly thereafter, a scowl nearly the size of its entire face making up its expression.

"May Lenni be helping you?" she asked. At least, Harry was fairly certain it was a girl. It was so hard to tell with all those folds of skin and the big bulging eyes.

"Who's there Lenni?" a drawling voice asked from the staircase behind the door.

"Lenni is not knowing sir," she started worriedly.

Harry pushed past her at the sound of the voice and headed toward it, barely taking in his surroundings.

"Are you punishing Scorpius?" Harry bellowed at Malfoy, who was standing on the bottom step of the staircase looking gobsmacked.

"Am I – what?" Malfoy looked at him with a baffled expression. "Why would I be punishing Scorpius?"

"He hasn't been at camp for two days and you haven't sent any word about him and I know you were angry when you left Grimmauld Place the last time you saw me and - " he trailed off, realizing he was babbling.

"And you thought that because I was angry with you that I would penalize my son and keep him from doing something that makes him happy. Merlin Potter, you are a piece of work."

Harry fidgeted and looked at his hands. Perhaps he _had_ been a little hasty in rushing over here in a fit of rage.

"Scorpius is ill and rather than subject the rest of that motley group you teach to his germs, I decided to keep him home until he was feeling better. Is that quite alright with you?" Malfoy asked, but he didn't sound angry.

"Oh," was all Harry could manage. Mainly because he was just noticing that Malfoy wore nothing more than a dark blue terry robe and black pajama pants with no slippers. Blinking, he continued. "But you could have sent an owl or something. I was worried."

"Apparently," Malfoy said with an infuriating grin. "I'm sorry that I didn't let you know, but I've been rather busy taking care of him. I don't trust the house elves with him when he's like this. They'll just coddle him and feed him ice cream without giving him the proper potions."

"Why can't his mum take care of him some of the time? Give you a break?" Harry asked, puzzled, his brain completely bypassing the apology. There were only so many things he could handle at once.

Malfoy looked at him with an assessing gaze. "Scorpius' mother and I are not together."

That made sense. Why hadn't that ever crossed Harry's mind before? Now that he thought of it, he never _had_ noticed anyone else picking Scorpius up from camp. It was always Malfoy.

"Why not?" Harry asked blithely.

An appearance of pure amusement and surprise crossed Malfoy's countenance. "Do you always just blurt out inappropriate questions, heedless of other people's privacy?"

A blush touched his cheeks. "I guess so. It's part of my Gryffindor charm," Harry laughed.

"Yes well, I think Larissa found my fondness for cock rather distasteful," he stated plainly.

Harry thanked Merlin that he didn't have any liquid in his mouth at the moment. Otherwise it would have been all over Malfoy's face as he spit it out in astonishment. And he didn't think the blond would appreciate that very much.

"Your fondness for – you're gay?" he stammered, voice reaching an octave not becoming of a grown man.

Malfoy wrinkled his brow and blinked at Harry slowly. "Yes. Aren't you? I wouldn't think you would find that particular trait shocking in someone else."

Only Malfoy could refer to being gay as a "trait" and get away with it. There were a lot of things only Malfoy could get away with.

"It's not _someone_ being gay. It's you, Draco Malfoy, being gay that's shocking," Harry blustered.

When had this happened? How was Malfoy gay and he never knew? The fact that he hadn't seen him since the war most likely had a lot to do with it. But that just brought up more questions. Had Malfoy known he was gay in school? Had he experimented with other boys at Hogwarts? Did he have a boyfriend now?

For the first time, possibly ever, Harry saw a genuine smile cross Malfoy's face.

"What?" he asked nervously. Surely a smile that benign had an evil source.

"Do you realize that's probably the first time you've ever said my first name?" The smile was now turning into a grin and Harry's insides churned peculiarly.

"I'm sure I have before." Harry made a point of furrowing his face in concentration, trying to think of when that had last happened, but knowing it never had. At least not to Malfoy's face.

"When you can think of an instance, be sure to let me know. In the meantime, I would assume you would like to see Scorpius since you came all this way. That way you can know that he really is under the weather and I haven't strung him up by his toes out of anger." He looked at Harry with a wry smile.

"I'd like that. Not to prove that he's sick, just to see him," Harry noted. "I trust you."

_I trust him? Where the hell did that come from?_

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "Do you?"

Harry backpedaled. "Well, mostly," he admitted.

Malfoy gave a gleeful chuckle and started up the stairs. "One must admire the Gryffindor honesty."

* * *

Harry followed Malfoy up the winding staircase to the third floor of the Manor. Along the way, as Malfoy chatted about the businesses he began since the war, Harry noticed that more than Malfoy's nature had changed. Though his previous memories of the inside of the Manor were both blurry and sharp at the same time, certain scenes standing out in relief while others faded into the background, he was fairly certain it hadn't looked like this before.

Instead of all the dark tiling and heavy wood he remembered, a pretty cherry wood extended all throughout the home. Oatmeal colored paint with white wainscoting covered the walls which were plastered with framed moving photos of Scorpius and Malfoy in various scenes. At the park, a birthday party, and one with Malfoy awkwardly holding Scorpius as a baby, wearing an expression of both absolute terror and love. That photo in particular increased the churning in Harry's stomach.

They turned left at the third floor landing and stood in front of a door that was cracked open slightly. A small strip of light streamed through from inside and spilled out into the hallway.

Malfoy poked his head in first to see if Scorpius was sleeping and then seemed to find him awake.

"Scorpius, you have a visitor," Malfoy said gently. Harry wasn't sure he had ever heard his voice quite so soft. It was becoming on him.

"Really? Who?" a croaky voice asked. His tone sounded tired, but also held notes of excitement.

Malfoy opened the door all the way so that Scorpius could see who stood beside him.

"Coach Harry!" Scorpius called excitedly.

"Hey Scor, how are you feeling?" Harry asked, edging into the room around Malfoy. It was a large space, naturally, but decorated for a child, not a child imitating an adult like he had expected. While the ceiling was impressive and bewitched to show the night sky, replete with the family's namesake constellations, the rest of the room was typical for a seven year old wizard.

His broom was propped up against the wall in a far corner of the room, even though there was a neoprene broom rack right above it. Posters of Quidditch teams from around the world plastered the walls, reminding Harry of the camp office. Scorpius' bedding was blood red and flooded over the large four-poster bed. Tiny gold snitches were embroidered into the edges of the coverlet. Harry tried not to smile at the color scheme. No wonder Malfoy was so afraid his son would be a Gryffindor.

"Better," Scorpius replied. "My throat still hurts though. Why are you here?"

Harry smiled and sat on the edge of his bed. "I just wanted to make sure my best flyer was alright. We've been worried about you," he replied truthfully.

Harry filled him in on what the beginners group learned over the past few days and promised to teach him everything he'd missed when they met on Saturday. By the end of their conversation, Scorpius' eyes were drooping and Harry walked deftly to the door with a smile.

Back out in the hallway, he closed the child's door and turned to meet Malfoy.

"Going back home now that you've performed your hero duties for the day?" Malfoy asked archly.

"Guess so. Why? Did you expect me to stay and keep you company?" Harry laughed.

Malfoy looked like he had a scathing retort to that question, but thought better of it. Instead he shrugged and said, "You could stay for a drink if you wanted to."

Harry didn't know when he became alright with the thought of spending time alone with Malfoy, but he didn't think he would mind at all. In fact, it might be kind of nice. All he would do was think about Tim when he got home anyway. There was no rush for that.

"I can stay for a drink," he said before he could change his mind.

Malfoy stopped mid-step and turned to look at him as if he couldn't figure him out. Harry relished in the fact that he'd temporarily rendered the blond speechless.

"Right then," he said when he'd finally recovered. "Follow me."

Malfoy continued past the second floor and back down to the first. Harry supposed that Malfoy's rooms were on the second floor and suddenly wanted to know what they looked like. For purely academic reasons, of course.

When they got down to the ground floor, Malfoy led them into a room near the rear of the house that had a bar cart, several cozy-looking armchairs, and a towering bookshelf that contained numerous well-worn books on the history of magic.

"Pick your poison," Malfoy said, heading over to the bar and levitating two squat crystal glasses.

"Er, Firewhisky is fine. Thanks." He sat down in a chair close to the window overlooking the grounds. From here, he could just see the Quidditch pitch out back.

The Ogden's bottle raised itself seemingly of its own accord and poured out two healthy portions of the liquor. Harry's glass floated over to him and smacked into his waiting palm.

Malfoy sat down across from Harry with his glass and took a refined sip. Harry on the other hand took a large gulp of his. He was becoming inexplicably nervous, sitting here in Malfoy's house, having a drink, talking. Almost like they were…friends. Friends that tried not to notice how Malfoy's robe was sliding open a little at the chest, revealing an expanse of skin that looked alluring.

Harry coughed, but couldn't seem to move away from the subject in his mind. "When did you know you were gay?" he asked, immediately wishing he hadn't.

Malfoy smirked at him from behind his glass. "I think on some level I always knew, but probably when I started thinking more about being reamed from behind by a bloke than about touching breasts." He made an unpleasant face on that last word.

Harry didn't spit his drink out. But he did start choking.

Malfoy laughed wickedly. The bastard had done that on purpose.

"You're an ass," Harry coughed around his fist.

A gleam shone in Malfoy's eyes, turning them the color of quicksilver. "I figured it out in Hogwarts. Got a little too excited during those after-Quidditch showers, if you know what I mean." And then Malfoy winked. He bloody winked. Harry stared at him in disbelief, but knew if he tried to call him on it, he would just say 'Malfoys don't wink' and move right on with the conversation.

Harry shook his head. "You're – not like I thought you were."

Malfoy shrugged and took another sip of his drink. "I suppose that's one of the hazards of keeping childhood impressions of someone and applying them to the adult they've grown into."

He thought for a moment and supposed he was right. Sure Malfoy was still a prick at times, but overall, he was not the same mean-spirited person he'd been in school. Harry wondered what Malfoy thought of him now.

"I think you've changed too," Malfoy said, as if reading Harry's thoughts through Legilimency.

Harry breathed heavily. "How so?"

"Well, you're still just as reckless as you were, jumping into things with both feet before really looking at the whole picture. But you're more laid-back. I feel like I can tease you now and you won't go storming off into a rage. And of course you're much better-looking now."

Damn it, he was intentionally trying to make Harry choke now.

"What?" he sputtered, trying very hard to swallow the whisky and not have it dribble down his chin.

Malfoy looked at him incredulously. "Come now Potter, you must know what you look like. No one would be able to pull a boyfriend like the one you've got without being fairly attractive."

Harry decided to ignore the compliment and thought back to the night on his front step instead. The night Tim had been so rude to Malfoy.

"I'm sorry about what he said to you. It was completely unwarranted," he stated. "And for the record, he's not my boyfriend. That was our first date."

Malfoy seemed the find the contents of his drink fascinating. "Apology accepted." A few beats later he continued. "First date, eh? Seems like you two make short work of things," he smirked.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Tim is a little…enthusiastic."

"I'd say," the blond chuckled, voice teasing. "But don't tell me you don't like it."

"I," Harry shook his head, not really sure how he felt. And if he hadn't sorted it out in his own head yet, he certainly wasn't going to try and explain it to Malfoy. "It's complicated," he finished lamely.

"It doesn't have to be," Malfoy responded, not looking up from his glass.

Harry frowned. "How so?"

Another shrug. "Either you're attracted to him or you're not. And if you are, and his personality is enough to match yours, then that should be it, end of."

But Harry wasn't sure Tim's personality did match his own. It was one thing to get along at work, but to start a relationship with him? He spent a long time thinking about Malfoy's words, even after he'd said his goodbyes and gone back home.

If Tim wasn't what Harry needed in a partner, then who was?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out with the old...In with the new...

“That’s a foul!” Harry shouted and blew his whistle, racing his broom toward the burly fifteen year old that had just knocked an opposing player clear off her broom. She and her Nebula 650 hurtled awkwardly to the ground and then bounced gently on impact, a bewildered grin plastered on her face. Thank Merlin for the Cushioning Charms Harry had insisted on maintaining on the pitch. He reprimanded the boy and swapped him out for another player who wasn’t quite as brutal. 

It had been a trying day to say the least. Though Harry’s spirits were temporarily lifted when he noted the return of Scorpius, everyone else seemed to be in a foul mood and tempers were flaring left and right. The final straw had been when one of the Seekers nearly took a Bludger to the head because Tim was too busy staring at Harry’s ass to intervene. He’d finally made up an inane errand for the assistant coach to run just so he’d be out of Harry’s hair. 

Harry gave a despondent sigh. Right now, all he wanted to do was escape to Grimmauld Place, grab some leftover Butterbeer and sit quietly in front of the fire. Funny how things never turn out the way he’d like them to. 

Sorting through paperwork had never been Harry’s favorite thing to do. And yet, here he was, close to 5pm that day, rustling through parchment of the children’s medical records and parent’s permission slips trying to determine the fastest way to cast a Replication Charm and send the whole lot to the Ministry for filing. But if it wasn’t for the dreaded paperwork, Harry wouldn’t have been around when Sophia burst in the office. 

“Harry! Have you heard from Malfoy?” she asked, holding a stitch in her side as through she’d run clear across the field.

His eyebrows drew together in confusion. “No, why? What’s wrong? And what are you still doing here?” 

The ebony-haired woman pulled a face and then opened the front door more fully. A small blond head poked inside the room from under her outstretched arm.

Harry’s confusion grew. “Scorpius? Are you ok? Where’s your dad?” 

“I dunno,” he replied. It was the most downcast he’d ever heard the boy sound. Even when he was sick, he held more animation in his voice. “I’ve been waiting, but he’s not here yet.” 

Harry glanced at the enchanted clock on his desk that read 5:07 and frowned. The last of the day’s activities had ended at 4:30 and as far as he could tell, all the other children had been picked up.

He stood up. “Thanks Sophia. You go on home. I’ll look after Scorpius.”

She threw Harry a grateful smile, ruffled Scorpius’ hair, earning her a grimace from the boy, and dashed back outside.

Harry stood in thought for a moment. Part of him wanted to stay at the office in case Malfoy showed up frantically looking for his son. Another part thought about dropping Scorpius off at the Manor and allowing the house elves to care for him. But paranoia beat out all of those options. A sense of dread crept into his stomach as he began to think that something had happened to Malfoy. He was certain that no matter how busy the blond may have been, he would never forget to pick up his son, unless he’d been waylaid.

_Grimmauld Place it is then._

“I’m going to try to Firecall your dad, Scor. But I have to do it from my house because there’s not a Floo here.” Ludo Bagman had begged Harry to allow them to set the office up to the Floo Network, but he’d stubbornly refused. He abhorred the thought of Ministry officials just dropping in whenever they pleased to check on his progress. He worked better without someone constantly over his shoulder.

“Are you alright coming with me?” Harry coaxed. He tried to imagine being seven years old, not knowing where his parent was and trusting someone he barely knew to take care of him until said parent arrived. It was enough to frighten an adult.

“Alright,” he answered softly. He hitched his broom up higher on his shoulder in an unaffected manner, but Harry could see the watery quality his eyes had taken on. They needed to find Malfoy fast.

He held Scorpius’ hand and led him to the Apparition point, absent-mindedly throwing locking charms at the door behind his back. He cringed and thought about the paperwork that was still sat on his desk. Oh well. It was already a week late, another day wouldn’t hurt.

They arrived at Grimmauld Place in a blur of colors and Harry glanced hopefully at the front step, hoping that Malfoy had showed up at his house again, indignant, but intact to pick up his son. The tiny porch was devoid of any entity, blond or otherwise. He huffed and guided Scorpius into the house after lowering the wards and unlocking the door.

“You live here?” Scorpius asked, looking up at the high ceilings and resplendent tapestries in awe. Harry thought the Manor was awe-inspiring, yet Scorpius was looking around as though he’d never seen anything like it.

“I do. Just me and my house elf Kreacher,” he admitted a tad wistfully. It had been a long time since he’d shared a space with someone. He was allowed a moment of longing every once in a while.

Tossing the thoughts to the side, he steered Scorpius into an armchair and dropped to his knees on the hearth. A handful of floo powder flashed to life a moment later and Harry called out, “Malfoy Manor!”

He sat impatiently looking at a random sitting room in the Manor, but could not see anyone in the room. Just when he was about to close the connection, a wrinkled head jutted into view.

“You is Harry Potter sir. Lenni is recognizing you from before. How may Lenni be helping you?”

Harry rolled his eyes gently at the butchered grammar and instead asked, “Is Draco there?”

“Master Malfoy is not being home right now.” Lenni wrung her hands, as though expecting a punishment for telling the truth.

Harry’s teeth clenched. _Where was he?_

“Did he mention anything that he had to do today? Something that would have made him late in picking up Scorpius?”

“Lenni is not knowing sir. We house elves is not knowing what Master Malfoy is doing at all times.”

The dread in Harry’s stomach solidified into granite. How was he supposed to find the git if no one was even keeping tabs on him?

“Alright, thank you Lenni. But if Draco comes home, please tell him to come to Grimmauld Place.” The tone of his voice left no illusions that she should obey his order, even though he was not part of the Malfoy family.

“Yes sir, Harry Potter sir.”

Harry closed his eyes, breathed deeply and ended the connection.

“I can’t go home with the elves?” Scorpius asked from his perch on the chair, suddenly looking very small.

He’d thought about that too, but remembered what Malfoy had said about the house elves coddling Scorpius when he was sick. It would make him feel better if he could hand him directly off to his father at this point. And he told Scorpius as much.

“I just want to make sure you’re safe Scor. If I leave you with the elves anything could happen and I don’t want to be responsible for that,” he replied earnestly.

Scorpius frowned and Harry thought he would have to explain himself further, but the boy asked, “Why do you call me that?”

Surprise showed in Harry’s face. “What?”

“Scor. Why not Scorpius?” He looked truly puzzled.

Harry tried not to laugh. “It’s just a nickname. Like I call my friend Ronald ‘Ron’ for short. It’s sort of a way to show you’re close to someone, enough for them to have their own special name.”

“I don’t think my father likes nicknames,” Scorpius replied thoughtfully.

A grin did appear that time. _That’s because your father’s name is ‘Draco,’_ he thought ruefully. What were people supposed to call him for short? ‘Dray?’ Somehow he didn’t think that would sit well with the blond.

They spent the next hour together and Harry had made Scorpius dinner, told him funny stories from Hogwarts, and finally set him up in front of the small telly he had bought years ago. For some reason it tended to work only in one of the second floor bedrooms, despite all the magic pulsing in the house. Scorpius was engrossed in an animated short about a sea creature that lived in a piece of fruit leaving Harry to go back downstairs and pace.

Where the hell could Malfoy be? Should he try to reach Scorpius’ mom? He scrapped that idea right away considering all he knew was that her name was Larissa and she had a disdain for men who enjoyed cock. Which probably meant she wouldn’t like him all that much.

Maybe he could go to the Ministry? But what would he say? There were no signs of foul play. Just that the git hadn’t showed up. And despite the time that had passed, there were plenty of people there who wouldn’t think Malfoy disappearing off the face of the earth was such a bad thing.

He dragged a hand through his hair and dropped down into a chair. The pacing wasn’t helping. Perhaps he would Firecall Hermione. She would have a lot of questions, but he’d rather work on a plan than sit here and worry to death. His mind was just about made up to contact the witch when he felt a shifting in the wards.

Malfoy.

He raced toward the foyer and threw open the front door. The sight of Malfoy standing on the front step looking as unharmed and unconcerned as ever extinguished Harry’s worry, but gave way to a new emotion. Anger.

“Where have you been?” he hissed.

“Out. And I’m quite tired, so if you don’t mind, I’ll just gather up Scorpius and his things and be on my way.”

Harry held out a hand against Malfoy’s chest as he tried to make his way into the house.

“Actually I do fucking mind. I’m not your babysitter.” Harry’s voice had lowered to a dangerous growl. “Now where were you?”

Malfoy gave a little sigh. “Fine. I had a business meeting today that ran long and I lost track of time.”

Harry’s lips firmed into a straight line. He could sit here and argue with Malfoy or he could let him take Scorpius home so that he could relax for the night. Fatigue won.

“Whatever, come on.” He dropped his hand from Malfoy’s chest and permitted him entry into the house.

“Can I have a drink with some ice?” Malfoy asked as Harry was placing a foot on the stairs to go pull Scorpius away from cartoons.

Harry scowled. “You’re joking, right? Do I look like your house elf? I’m supposed to offer you refreshments after your long day doing Merlin knows what?”

Malfoy visibly struggled to maintain his composure. “Please.”

“I didn’t know you knew that word,” Harry muttered, but turned around and headed toward the kitchen with Malfoy in tow.

The blond dropped into one of the wooden chairs as though his bones were too weary to keep him upright any longer. It was when they were in the brighter light of the kitchen that Harry noticed the drawn lines on Malfoy’s normally smooth face.

_And there’s something on his left eye…_

“What’s Scorpius doing?” Malfoy asked, idly toying with the salt and pepper shakers on the table.

“He’s upstairs trying to watch the telly.”

_Is that a glamour?_

“What’s happened to your eye?” Harry asked, unable to help himself.

Malfoy blanched and then schooled his features back into a mask so quickly Harry almost didn’t catch it. Almost. “What are you on about Potter?”

Harry ignored the question and instead pulled out his wand and murmured an incantation. The glamour that was covering Malfoy’s eye fell away, revealing a dark purple bruise that ran from his cheekbone up to his brow. Malfoy sat stock-still, teeth set and eyes glittering with anger, but said nothing.

“Who hit you?” Harry’s voice was little more than a whisper. He reached a tentative finger out and traced the edge of the mark with the very tip.

Malfoy recoiled from the touch. “Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine! You’re gone all day, you don’t pick Scorpius up from camp, no one has any idea where you are, and when you finally do show up, you’ve got a black eye! That’s not fine!” Harry’s voice was reaching levels of hysteria.

“I went somewhere I shouldn’t have. Somewhere where people are still rather sensitive about me and what my family used to represent. This is my reminder to stay in my place,” he spat.

A rage began to rise in Harry’s chest. He fought to control it. He wanted to know what had happened first before he went out and murdered whoever had laid a hand on Malfoy.

He inhaled sharply and then dropped to his knees next to Malfoy’s chair. Placing a hand on the blond’s knee, he repeated slowly, “Who. Hit. You.”

Malfoy brought his eyes up briefly to meet Harry’s, but they flickered away again before they could hold a gaze. “I don’t know who it was. I was at The Three Broomsticks. I had only popped in for some juice before my meeting. The next thing I knew I was being dragged to the back alley and…” his voice trailed off. He undid his robe and lifted the hem of his shirt to expose his side which was covered in a mass of ugly purple contusions. As though someone had kicked him repeatedly.

Harry sucked in a breath and closed his eyes to steady himself. “Draco. I’m so sorry.”

A bitter laugh echoed in the kitchen. “What for? You didn’t do this. This is what I get for being a Malfoy, remember? This is what I deserve for what my family did, for what I did, during the war.”

Harry shook his head so hard he was going to give himself a headache. “I hope you don’t believe that.”

Malfoy just shrugged in response.

“You don’t deserve that. You’re not the same person you were in the war. You’ve grown up and you’re smart and funny and -” Harry stopped before he could add “handsome” to the end of that list. “You’re raising an amazing little boy on your own, managing your businesses and staying out of trouble. If anything, you should be proud of yourself. I know Scorpius is proud of you, and I am too.”

Gray eyes looked at Harry with an emotion that he couldn’t immediately name. But he knew it was wreaking havoc on his breathing pattern. Ever so gently, Malfoy reached his hand down and covered Harry’s on his knee. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Harry gave a shaky smile and shrugged. “Nothing to thank me for.”

They held each other’s gazes until they heard Scorpius thundering down the stairs. Harry hurriedly replaced Malfoy’s glamour and stood up as the boy entered the room.

“Dad!” he shouted and ran to embrace Malfoy around the knees.

Harry watched carefully as Malfoy apologized for not being there when Scorpius was ready to come home and promising that he wouldn’t let it happen again. He really was a good father. He made sure to see them to the door and chuckled as he heard Scorpius ask a question once they were outside.

“What do you think about the nickname ‘Scor’ dad?” 

* * *

“Are you going to keep avoiding me?” Tim asked, moving into the camp office unexpectedly two evenings later, and causing Harry to lose his concentration. He knocked over an inkwell in surprise and cursed softly before cleaning it up with a wave of his wand.

Sighing loudly, he propped his head up with the palm of his hand. He was beginning to think that his desk was jinxed. Every time he tried to get something accomplished there was some sort of emergency or someone had something that just couldn’t wait. Why couldn’t people just leave him alone when he was at his desk? All he wanted to do was write a letter.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked evasively.

“You know what I mean Harry,” Tim replied. He didn’t sit on the desk this time, but instead stood towering over it, palms planted firmly on the top. If he thought a simple stance like that would intimidate Harry, he had another thing coming. “Every time I start to ask you if you want to go out, you suddenly have something else to do or you send me off to do something. What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”

Harry had been expecting this confrontation, but still wasn’t any more prepared for it. He dug deep into his barrel of Gryffindor courage and powered through.

“Tim,” Harry said, standing up and moving around the desk to stand beside him. “Things have just been a bit much with us and I’m not entirely sure what I want and I’m sorry about that.”

Tim’s eyebrows furrowed. “A bit much how?”

Harry’s shoulders slumped. “It’s just – I think you’re incredibly attractive and you’re a sweet guy, but I’ve been wondering lately if it might be better if we were just friends.” There. He had said it.

An infinity passed in the time it took for Tim to respond. “I just don’t understand. We’ve only been on one date. How could you have made a decision about me so soon?”

“Oh good Potter, you’re still here -” Two heads whipped around to the doorway. Malfoy was there with a relieved expression that quickly turned sour when he noted Tim’s presence.

Harry’s heart did a funny little somersault at the sight of the blond. His appearance was windblown, as though he’d run all the way from the Manor.

“Malfoy,” Harry said dumbly.

“What do you want?” Tim barked, annoyance plain in both his voice and face.

Malfoy looked like he was valiantly fighting against sneering, but his facial expressions got the best of him.

“Tim,” Harry warned.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Scorpius merely forgot one of his toys here today and I’d much rather find it than let it go and deal with his tantrums until Monday,” Malfoy said in a cool tone.

“I don’t remember seeing it, but I can help you look for it,” Harry offered, glad to have an excuse to get out of his conversation with Tim.

“Harry, we were talking. Can’t this wait?” Tim looked completely exasperated.

“Tim, this should only take a few minutes. Now if you can’t wait that long to have a conversation, then maybe we don’t have anything to talk about,” Harry snapped.

The blue eyes widened in shock and then narrowed again. “What’s your deal anyway? I mean, I know you’ve never been with a bloke before, but this is just bloody preposterous. I couldn’t have scared you off after just one date.”

The silence in the room after that statement was deafening. Harry was completely and utterly mortified. He closed his eyes, head canted toward the floor in disbelief and hurt. How dare he throw something so personal in his face like that? And in front of someone else for that matter.

“Perhaps,” a voice drawled from the doorway, “Harry just doesn’t appreciate being mauled at every turn.”

Harry’s eyes darted up to Malfoy who was staring back at him intently. During the moments where Harry was trying to reconcile the fact that Malfoy had used his given name, Tim had crossed the room faster than Harry ever thought he could and was inches away from Malfoy’s face.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? You think that just because we’ve allowed your son to come here that you can waltz in and say whatever the hell you want?” Tim snarled.

From his vantage at the desk, he could see that Malfoy’s hands were still at rest at his sides, but a hint of wand was now peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his work robes.

“You are scum. Your filthy father is scum. I don’t know why you’re always following Harry around like an abused Crup, but you’ve got no chance at getting in his pants if that’s what you’re after.”

Harry lost it. Waves of blue uncontrolled magic crackled along his skin as he thought about all of the emotions and questions he’d been wading through in the past week. The uncertainties, fears, and desires all boiled up into his chest, an explosion of fury ready to lash out at the first available victim.

He didn’t feel himself cross the room or take out his wand. He didn’t remember moving Tim away from Malfoy or the surprised expression on the blond’s face. All he was aware of was shoving Tim up against the wall of the office, a death grip on his shirt. Harry’s wand was tucked under Tim’s chin, forcing his face up to look at Harry as he spoke.

“Enough. I have had enough of you. I’m sick of the leering, and the comments, and this laissez-faire attitude that just because I’m into men that I’m supposed to fall all over the first bloke who pays me any attention. You will not continue to disrespect me, you will not disrespect my friends, and you will not show up here on Monday. Understood?” Harry’s voice was so quiet that even Malfoy had a hard time hearing him. His eyes had turned nearly black in his anger, giving him a wild and unstable appearance.

Tim’s expression had moved from frightened to incredulous in the span of seconds. “Are you really going to sack me over this?”

Harry’s wand pressed a little harder into the flesh under Tim’s chin, apparently making it hard for him to swallow.

“You didn’t answer my question. Do. You. Understand?”

When Harry’s expression didn’t waver, Tim’s resolve broke. He nodded the best he could while pinned to the wall and tried to catch his breath when he was finally released.

“Get out.” Harry turned away from him and moved in front of Malfoy, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Vaguely, he could hear the front door open and close as Tim slinked out.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, concerned.

“Fine. Although I should probably be asking you that.” Malfoy gave him a tiny sad smile.

Harry dropped his head and tried to let the shame from Tim’s outburst wash over him and fall to the floor without soaking into his skin to contaminate him.

“I am so sorry,” Harry began. “He said such terrible things to you -”

Malfoy smiled bitterly. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Except for the bit about you maybe. That was new.”

Harry could feel a blush heating his cheeks. “I’m sorry for that too. I know you’re not following me around.”

It was the lack of response that made Harry look up. He wished he hadn’t. Malfoy’s eyes had turned liquid, as though he were looking at the reflection of storm clouds in the ocean.

“I have a confession,” Malfoy said meekly.

“Spill,” Harry whispered, trying and failing to not get lost in that gaze.

Malfoy chewed his bottom lip, a nervous gesture that Harry found to look alien on the blond.

“Scorpius didn’t leave his toy here. I may have…made that part up when I saw you with Tim. I just came here to talk to you.”

Harry looked at Malfoy with wide eyes. “What did you want to talk about?” He didn’t immediately recognize the expression flooding Malfoy’s face. Was he embarrassed?

Malfoy’s chest heaved up with a large breath. “I was going to say that having drinks with you the other night wasn’t the worst way I’ve ever spent my time and to see if you possibly wanted to do it again sometime.”

Harry blinked.

“Are you -” his mouth opened and then closed again without a sound.

Malfoy gave a short exhale. “I know this is a terrible time to bring it up, but I honestly didn’t know that he’d be here. And I’m not asking for anything more than drinks right now. Like we did before.”

It was hard for Harry to tell if Malfoy said something after that because of the blood rushing in his ears. He could hear his own heartbeat, rapidly drumming through his body, but not much else.

“You’re right. This is a terrible time,” Harry gave a grim smile.

Malfoy nodded solemnly. “Promise you’ll at least think about it? I give my oath as a wizard to not stalk you if you say no,” he added with a grin.

Harry bit back a smile. “I promise.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family bonding and awkward conversation.

Harry spent more time than he usually did in getting ready for Scorpius’ lesson on Saturday. Though he knew he’d just be flying around and sweating for most of the afternoon, it might be worth putting a little more effort into his outfit, if for no other reason than to evoke a response from Malfoy. Their exchange last night at the office incited both resentment and exhilaration in Harry’s being. Remembering Tim’s actions were currently too overwhelming, so he chose to focus on his interaction with Malfoy instead.

 

The blond had surprised Harry. He hadn’t outright cursed Tim, though he would have been well within his right to do so, but he didn’t shrink away from the altercation either.

 

_And_ , Harry noted with a small smile, _he stood up for me._

 

_‘Perhaps Harry just doesn't appreciate being ogled at every turn.’_

He couldn’t recall the last time someone had intervened on his behalf. Most people, Ron and Hermione included, automatically assumed that he could handle himself. They weren’t wrong; Harry had years of experience speaking his mind and taking it on the chin when people disagreed or outright fought with him. But even he couldn’t deny that it would be nice to have a man by his side that would lighten the load. Someone to step in every once in a while and play the role of protector.

 

Harry wasn’t positive that was a role he wanted Malfoy to play right now. But he wouldn’t mind spending some time finding out.

 

* * *

 

Malfoy wasn’t waiting at the front door of the Manor as he was before when Harry arrived. In his place was a tiny house elf, almost half the size of Lenni. “Master Malfoy is on the Quidditch pitch with young Master Scorpius. He is wanting Harry Potter to meet him there,” it squeaked.

 

“Oh, alright. Thank you,” Harry said before turning heel and following the familiar weeping willow path to the back of the property. He tried not to feel disappointed that he would have to wait a little longer for Malfoy to admire his clothing. Though moping about such a trivial detail quickly fell from his thoughts when he reached the pitch. His mouth opened slightly at the sight in front of him.

 

Scorpius was high up in the air, practicing the drills he’d learned at camp. Right next to him, on a sleek ebony broom, was Malfoy. Harry hadn’t seen Malfoy on a broom in over ten years and despite the lapse, he seemed to be just as polished and daring as he was as a fourteen year old. Blond hair shined in the afternoon sunlight, fluttering about his head as he soared tightly next to Scorpius, making sure he stayed on track.

 

Harry moved closer to the edge of the grass and jumped on his broom, kicking off quietly and hoping he hadn’t been seen yet. As they did in camp each day, Malfoy and Scorpius were tossing the Quaffle back and forth while flying. He waited until Scorpius had lobbed the ball back to his father and then stole up beside Malfoy, snatching the ball from his hands and speeding off again.

 

He threw a broad smile and mischievous glance over his shoulder and saw Malfoy’s face cycle between shock, anger, and then finally delight. Sooner than he expected, he could hear a whistling in his ears as Malfoy sped up behind him trying to give chase. Harry led him through a series of twists and turns up and down the pitch, laughing at Scorpius’ cries of, “C’mon dad, you can catch him!”

 

Just when Harry was going to hurl the Quaffle through one of the goals, Malfoy put on a burst of speed and managed to pull alongside him. Momentarily, he forgot what he was doing. The blond beside him was breathing heavily, but that didn’t stop a smirk from curling his mouth. Spots of pink had reached his cheeks giving him a healthier appearance than his pale complexion normally showed.

 

“Still a show-off, eh Potter?” Malfoy asked, a teasing gleam in his smoky eyes.

 

Harry couldn’t resist taunting back. “It’s not showing off when someone is just naturally better.”

 

Had Malfoy not narrowed his eyes and smiled roguishly, Harry wouldn’t have had any warning for what came next. He swiftly shifted to the left so that the ball was just out of the reach of the blond’s reaching fingers, but was totally unprepared when another set of hands snatched the Quaffle from his fingertips. Harry’s eyes widened as he took in the devilish grin on Scorpius’ face, who wasted no time passing the ball to his father, who scored easily.

 

Harry was still sitting on his broom dumbfounded while Scorpius dashed around him to hover next to Malfoy in triumph.

 

Astonishment promptly shifted into grumpiness. “That wasn’t fair,” Harry said, folding his arms across his chest.

 

Malfoy rested his elbow on Scorpius’ shoulder, silently showing their solidarity. “No one likes a sore loser Potter. Did you really expect Scorpius not to take my side? We’re Malfoys after all. Malfoys tend to stick together.”

 

The statement was an innocent one, but Harry thought he caught the underlying sentiment. With him being estranged from his son’s mother, Narcissa out of the country, and Lucius in prison, Scorpius was really the only family he had left. Of course they would stand by each other’s side, even if it was during something as innocuous as Quidditch. Harry felt a pang of both grief and hope for the two blonds in front of him. Malfoy needed Scorpius just as much as his son needed him.

 

“You mean I’m not an honorary Malfoy?” Harry asked, dropping his arms, but poking his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. “I thought coming over here on the weekends and spending time with you would have put me into your good graces.”

 

_The world has gone categorically mad if I’m sulking because I haven’t been accepted into the Malfoy family._

 

Scorpius looked at him appraisingly, an expression so very like his father’s that Harry was hard put not to burst out laughing. Then he turned to Malfoy and the two shared a look that Harry couldn’t grasp the meaning of.

 

Finally, Malfoy faced Harry again and said, “We’ll think about it. We can’t just bring _anyone_ into the folds of the Malfoy family.”

 

“But I think you have a good chance,” Scorpius added in a loud stage whisper.

 

Harry couldn’t hold back the laughter that time. He let the deep rumble erupt from his throat and soon Malfoy and Scorpius were joining in.

 

A startling thought struck him as rapidly as lightening in that moment.

 

_I think I’m already part of the family._

 

* * *

 

“Thank you for your help Coach Harry,” Scorpius called to him before darting inside the house after their practice.

 

“Of course, I’ll see you on Monday!” Harry raised his hand in parting and then raked the same fingers through his damp hair. Their workout had been fun, but tiring. And it hadn’t helped that Malfoy had decided to stay outside as a spectator during the lesson. Even though he brought some reports out with him to pore over, Harry more than once saw him watching Scorpius’ movements with a paternal satisfaction. Despite his earlier words, he did find himself showing off just a touch to get the blonds attention.

 

“You really do belong on a broom, don’t you?” Malfoy mused as they walked back to the Manor.

 

Harry thought intently then nodded. “Sometimes I feel more at home up in the air than I do on the ground.” That was enough to share for right now. He didn’t want to get into the fact that had it not been for Quidditch and flying directly after the war, he might not have been able to break free of the depression that had gripped him after witnessing so much death.

 

“It makes one question why you didn’t try for a professional team,” the blond noted lightly. His gaze was fixed in front of him, allowing Harry to study his profile. He didn’t look uneasy, per se, just as though he were in deep thought. Harry wondered what he was thinking about.

 

“I like working with kids,” Harry said simply. “Besides, Ginny thought it was too dangerous to consider as an actual career.”

 

They were approaching the front door, and Malfoy had his hand on the doorknob. He turned to look at Harry. “And now that you two are no longer together?”

 

Harry bit the inside of his cheek and took a steadying breath. “Like I said, I like working with kids. It gives me a chance to give children something I didn’t have until I got to Hogwarts.”

 

The grey eyes focused on his face softened and an understanding crossed his features. “Then I’m glad that Scorpius has someone like you to work with. Someone who truly cares and is dedicated to what he’s doing.”

 

Harry’s breath caught. He took a step forward but then stopped abruptly. The desires to touch Malfoy, to embrace him, kiss him for saying such kind words clouded his brain, practically edging out any other coherent thoughts. “I – thank you. That means a lot.”

 

“Even coming from me?” Malfoy asked, the beginnings of a smirk playing on his face.

 

“Especially coming from you.”

 

They looked at each other a while longer and then Malfoy broke the silence. “What are your plans now?”

 

Harry blinked, trying to swim back to the surface. “Um, I was going to go back home.”

 

Malfoy looked at him inquisitively, the slight tightening of his jaw nearly going unnoticed. “Of course. I’ll see you next week then?”

 

Hesitancy filled Harry’s gut until he broke free of it and moved forward. He placed his fingers on Malfoy’s hand that rested on the door handle.

 

“Maybe sooner.”

 

With that, he left Malfoy standing on his front steps, a bemused grin etched on the blonds face.

 

* * *

 

It was funny how things turned out in life. Not really funny “ha-ha,” but funny as in fucking strange. Two weeks ago Harry never would have guessed that he would seriously be considering joining Malfoy for drinks again. But then again, two weeks ago he also never would have guessed that he would be striding through the Ministry about to talk to Emmanuelle Portif about his row and subsequent firing of Tim.

 

He’d left a message at the camp office early that Monday morning to let everyone know that Tim was no longer an employee and that Harry would be in later after a Ministry meeting. He didn’t mention that the two items were related and certainly didn’t include any details as to the grounds of Tim’s dismissal. He would leave it up to them to dream up their own conclusions until he got back.

 

A knot formed in his stomach, growing tighter with each step he took toward the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Awkward did not even _begin_ to describe how this conversation would go. How was he supposed to spin their argument so that no one was the wiser about his orientation? He knew that he wasn’t ready for the wizarding world to know that Harry Potter is gay, and as livid as he was with Tim, he didn’t want to out him that way either.

 

Harry felt a mass of anger settle on top on the knot of anxiety and almost swayed with a bout of nausea. He tried not to think about the scene from the office on Friday, but it had been there since last night, replaying every time he closed his eyes. The revulsion in Tim’s eyes as he closed in on Malfoy and the quiet incensed expression Malfoy threw back at him. After all Malfoy had been through he didn’t deserve an ass like Tim treating him that way. He ought to be treated with compassion and a reverent hand, not with scorn and loathing. Harry hoped that he could help show Malfoy that not everyone was dwelling on the past. The present was what really mattered, Harry thought, stepping off the lift and entering the offices where his meeting would be held.

 

Instead of wooden floors or rugs beneath his feet, faux grass from a Quidditch pitch covered the ground under his sneakers. Every desk in the office was adorned with carvings of Beater’s bats and broomsticks, while charmed Snitches, Quaffles, and Bludgers floated overhead. Harry felt more relaxed in that environment and even allowed a small smile to grow as he greeting the secretary.

 

“Hello, I’m here to see Emmanuelle,” he said pleasantly.

 

The strawberry blonde woman looked at him with a high blush. “Yes, Mister Potter, she’s waiting for you in her office. Go right ahead.”

 

Harry gave a good-natured sigh at the woman’s flustered appearance and bypassed her desk to the inner office of the department head.

 

Emmanuelle Portif sat behind her massive desk with impressive authority. She was a tall woman, with long graceful limbs that made Harry think she had fairy blood somewhere in her lineage. Her dark hair was styled in a choppy manner, layered pieces hanging over each other in organized chaos.

 

A small smile broke out on her face as Harry entered the room. “Harry, it’s good to see you. Please have a seat.”

 

“Good to see you as well,” Harry replied and arranged himself into one of the large high-backed chairs opposite her desk.

 

She toyed with a quill on the desk surface before starting her questioning. “What did you want to discuss with me?”

 

Harry took a deep breath. “I wanted to let you know that I had to fire Timothy Miel from camp on Friday. And that I’ll need to find someone else to fill his position.” He tried desperately not to flush at the words.

 

She gave him a piercing stare as though she were trying to pull every single thought and memory from his brain like Snape performing Legilimency. After long moments contemplating his face, she spoke, more gently than Harry had expected from someone of her position. “I can’t say that I’m surprised, but I need to know what the grounds were.”

 

Harry gaped at her. What about Tim had given her reason to suspect something like this?

 

“Um, well. We had a falling out…” There suddenly wasn’t enough air in the room for Harry to breathe. Emmanuelle’s hawk-like expression surely was sucking up the majority of the oxygen that he needed. The ‘about what?’ was written clearly on her face.

 

“He became irrationally angry and tried to attack a friend of mine. I don’t want someone like that around the children and I don’t think the Ministry does either.” Harry’s half-truth became stronger at the end as he began talking about his campers. They were the real reason he was doing this anyway.

 

“I see.” Emmanuelle found a spot to the right of Harry’s head extremely fascinating as she continued her train of thought. “There was a complaint filed about Timothy several years ago.” A troubled sigh. “It was dismissed in the end because the petitioner had been intoxicated at the time and couldn’t give us an accurate account of the situation. But I remember it being relatively questionable.”

 

Harry’s dark brows furrowed and then anger started to course through his chest further cutting off his air supply. He felt that his attempt to keep his voice in check was a miserable failure. “So your department felt it would be perfectly permissible to allow someone with previous anger issues to work at a camp with young witches and wizards?”

 

The witch’s eyes became cool. “As I said, the charges were dismissed.”

 

“And there was no need to tell me about this when I was considering candidates.” It wasn’t a question. His rage was simmering right below his skin.

 

A faint blush came over her cheeks.

 

_Ah. At least she has the decency to be a little embarrassed about their actions._

“If I recall correctly, Mr. Miel was one of the prospects that you were most confident about. No one wanted to go against your decision.”

 

Harry stood up so that he wouldn’t hex something. “I would appreciate it,” he started in an icy tone that Malfoy would be proud of, “if people would take more consideration for the students and not whether they’ll disagree with me.”

 

“Harry -”

 

He shook his head so she wouldn’t continue. “I’ll need to find a replacement. And I think I’ll perform my own background check this time if it’s alright with the Ministry.”

 

Emmanuelle nodded solemnly.

 

Harry returned the gesture and headed toward the door.

 

“Harry.”

 

He stopped in place, but didn’t turn around.

 

“Timothy. Did he ever…?”

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed and he looked at her over his shoulder. Her features had relaxed, but she looked anxious.

 

“What?” he asked.

 

“I mean to say…were his transgressions of a sexual nature?”

 

He blinked at her rapidly. With each pass of his eyelids a different scene with Tim flashed in front of his eyes. Him grinning at Harry over his shoulder while flying in front of him. Laughing as they degnomed the field on the first day of camp. Tim leaning over him and kissing him softly in front of the equipment shed. Avoiding him for days at a time. Malice twisted on his face as he yelled at Malfoy’s pliant form.

 

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Emmanuelle cut him off with a hand in the air. “It’s ok. Do you want to press any charges against him?” Her voice was as soft as he’d ever heard it.

 

“I - I don’t know. I’ll have to check with the other party involved.” Because really, Malfoy was the one who’d been threatened. He should be the one to decide if Tim should be charged.

 

“Alright,” she said. “Let me know as soon as you can.”

 

Harry’s heartbeat thudded along his skin. He felt numb as he nodded. Emmanuelle gave a dismissing smile and he headed back out into the reception area and then into the hall.

 

At first he was going to head straight back down to the Atrium to make his way back to camp, but decided to make a detour. He could use a visit with Ron and Hermione.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry decides it's time for some action.

"I hate to say this mate, but you look bloody awful."

Ron was peering at Harry from behind a mountain of paperwork on his desk in the Department of Magical Transportation, looking as though he might determine the cause of his troubled demeanor on sight alone.

"I just had an appointment with Portif and you know what she's like." Harry bit the inside of his cheek so that he wouldn't mention the reason behind the meeting.

_Not quite ready to share that yet…_

Ron shuddered theatrically. "I understand. She can be right scary sometimes, can't she?"

"Absolutely. So how's your day going so far?" Harry plopped down into one of the chairs scattered around Ron's office, which to be frank was the complete opposite of Emmanuelle's. Scraps of parchment and file folders covered every surface imaginable while brooms, polish, and some sort of metallic scales were shoved up against a closet door towards the back of the room.

"Not too bad. Oh! I almost forgot!" Ron jumped up out of his seat and rushed over to a file cabinet to the right of his desk. From the middle drawer, he pulled out an envelope and tossed it in Harry's direction. Harry caught it easily and peered at the creamy textured packet carefully.

"What's this?" he asked curiously.

Ron grinned and pretended to go back to his work, all the while peeking at Harry's expression from the corner of his eye.

Harry opened the letter cautiously and pulled out a formal-looking piece of parchment.

_Dear Mr. Weasley,_

_You are cordially invited to the Annual Quidditch Convention which will be held in Hertfordshire, England this year. Your invitation includes passes for two additional guests, a two-night stay at the Blue Buck Inn and complimentary meals for you and your party for the duration of the convention._

_We look forward to seeing you in two weeks time,_

_Kendra Nikos_

_International Quidditch Relations_

Harry looked up at his friend with wide eyes. "Ron! How did you score these?" His hand fished further into the envelope and pulled out three VIP passes to one of the most sought-after sporting conventions in the world.

The red-head blushed but looked pleased with himself. "Charlie," he replied simply.

Harry nodded his understanding. After encountering one too many close calls with dragon fire and stampeding, Charlie Weasley wanted to test out an occupation that was a little less worrisome. Subsequently, he decided to throw himself into working for the International Magical Cooperation Department's new Gaming Committee. He had also been scoring unbelievable perks for the Weasley family over the past year, but these tickets were the best by far.

"This is fantastic Ron! Who are you going to take?"

Ron tilted his head to the side as though Harry were stupid. Harry responded by giving him a sheepish grin.

"Probably Hermione and Bill. He hasn't stopped talking about the convention for the past month."

Harry's jaw dropped. Ron guffawed and slapped his hand on the desk in great amusement.

"I'm just kidding Harry. Of _course_ I'm taking you. Don't be mental. Merlin, the look on your face."

Harry chuckled, a small blush gracing his features. "I had to ask. Wouldn't do to be presumptuous and make an ass out of myself."

"Well, now we just have to figure out who else to take. Hermione obviously has no interest, and the rest of the family is going to be busy that weekend. Although I suppose I could ask Ginny…"

Harry cringed, causing Ron to backpedal quickly. "Or not. Have _you_ got any ideas?"

A crazy thought winged through Harry's brain. No…he couldn't…

Could he?

He sighed. "There's someone I'm thinking about bringing, but I don't know how they would feel about it."

"Who is it? That same girl you're 'lusting' after?" Ron asked, looking far too eager for juicy gossip.

Harry's heart hammered staccato beats against his ribcage. "Er, I'm still not ready to talk about it. I'll ask and see what happens," he said evasively.

Ron's face fell a bit, but he nodded. "Alright. But you know you can talk to me about anything mate."

For a brief moment, Harry was on the verge of setting up a silencing spell around Ron's desk and spilling everything that had happened between him and Tim, and now the burgeoning situation with Malfoy. But in the next moment, he lost his nerve and just nodded back.

_Some Gryffindor I am._

"I know. I'll come to you soon. I promise. Tell Hermione I said hello, yeah?" He stood up hastily and walked to the door.

"Course, I'll see you soon. We can work out the details for the convention."

"Sounds good." Harry threw a smile in Ron's direction and made his way back to the lifts with thoughts of Malfoy and Ron squaring off, wands drawn, filling his mind.

* * *

When Harry arrived back at camp that morning, it was closer to lunchtime than he'd anticipated. Each group of students was circling the ground, ready to land on the pitch and dig into their meals. Harry skirted the edge of the field and dipped into the office to eat his own sandwich. Three steps into the room and he was ambushed by Allie. Her eyes were wide as she came up close to him and placed a hand on his forearm.

"What happened?" she asked, voice an absolute whisper. Harry wasn't sure what she was whispering for, since everyone else was still outside. But better safe than sorry he guessed.

"I assume you mean with Tim," Harry stated blandly.

She placed a hand on her hip, making it evident that she found his question to be impertinent. "Yes, with Tim."

Harry sighed. He'd spent the majority of his trip back from the Ministry trying to determine what he was going to say. In the end he decided to follow the version of the story he shared with Emmanuelle.

"He tried to attack a parent," Harry said quietly.

Her ensuing gasp would have been funny had the situation not been so depressing. Allie's eyes grew impossibly larger as she breathed, "He didn't."

Harry gave a grim smile. "He did."

She ran a hand through her dark brown hair, shock paralyzing her features. "This is mad. Why? What set him off?"

Harry swallowed. "Malfoy."

She let out a low whistle. "What did Malfoy do?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Why do you automatically assume that Malfoy was the one that did something? He was just coming to -" he hesitated, "pick up something Scorpius had left here. Tim was the one who went mad, calling him names and saying he had no right being here."

Allie huffed. "I meant, what did Malfoy do after Tim threatened him?"

Oh.

Harry refused to acknowledge the burning in his cheeks. "Nothing. Not a hex or anything. I was the one that had to kick Tim out. It was rather surprising actually."

She cocked her head to the side in thought. "It's just so strange. He's seen Malfoy before, hasn't he? Why did he find it so hard to control himself this time in particular?"

"I – I don't know. I think he was angry about something else and took it out on Malfoy." That was as close to the truth as he could get right now.

Allie nodded. "Well you know what's best, of course. Who are we going to get to replace him?"

Harry almost blew out a breath of relief that the difficult part of the conversation was over. "Dunno. But I did tell Portif that I'd be the one in charge of the background checks this time." He threw her a rueful grin that she returned. "Would you mind telling the others what happened? I don't want to go through it again."

"Alright. But let me know if there's anything you need me to do. And please don't stay cooped up in the office today. It's beautiful out." Allie swept up her lunch bag from her desk and walked back outside.

Harry made his way to his desk, sat on the edge, and dragged a hand along his face. One crisis down, another to go.

* * *

_Malfoy,_

Harry stared at his parchment. He'd been sitting with his quill poised over the letter for twenty minutes and that was all he had come up with. He wasn't sure why it was so hard to ask the git to come over for a drink. Malfoy had made it clear that he was willing to just spend some time together – no pressure. Probably best to just say what he was thinking then.

_Malfoy,_

_I'm rubbish at these types of things, but do you want to come over for that drink this week? Wednesday would be good, but I understand if you have plans. There's also something that I want to ask you about._

_\- Harry_

He cringed, but folded the letter nonetheless and prepared it for mailing. He would go to Hogsmeade and mail it from the Owl Post after work.

* * *

Wednesday night came and Harry was sitting in his armchair battling a bad case of nerves. He'd received Malfoy's response on Tuesday morning and had been a jittery mess ever since. While waiting for any noise to come from the front door, he pulled the letter from his pocket and read it again.

_Potter,_

_Yes, you are rubbish at such social niceties, but I have so graciously forgiven you. I'll be at Grimmauld Place at 7pm on Wednesday. I'm wondering what you couldn't ask me in a letter, but I suppose I will have to wait until tomorrow to have my curiosity satisfied._

_\- DM_

For some strange reason, the word "satisfied" was doing odd things to Harry's stomach. He tried once more to focus on settling his nerves, but still jumped a mile when a knock sounded on the front door. Fuck. He hadn't even felt the wards shift.

Taming the tremor that had developed in his hands, Harry crossed the foyer and opened the door for Malfoy. The blond was standing on his front step looking as though he'd been delivered by the gods. He tried not to stare but didn't think he was doing a very good job of it. Malfoy was dressed in a dove gray polo shirt and black tailored slacks. The shirt was similar to a Muggle design, though Harry was fairly certain the non-wizard kind didn't have a serpent on the breast pocket.

And yet, it wasn't even the clothing that left Harry close to drooling. It was Malfoy's posture. He was radiating confidence. Not in that completely arrogant way that he had in school, but with a quiet self-assuredness that made him seem almost luminescent in the waning evening light.

"Hi," Harry choked out after he'd finished gawking.

"Hello Potter. I see you took my wardrobe advice." Malfoy quirked an eyebrow at him and gestured toward his ensemble.

Harry had indeed remembered Malfoy's parting words from Saturday and had carefully chosen a pair of dark jeans and a snug t-shirt bearing a manticore graphic on the front. He smirked at the blond and then paused. What was he supposed to do now? Did he give him a hug to say hello? A kiss on the cheek? A handshake? None of those options seemed right, so in the end he decided to just motion to the sitting room and allow Malfoy to pass him.

As Malfoy walked by, Harry caught a whiff of honeysuckle that was absolutely intoxicating. "What are you -" he started and then stopped himself.

Malfoy whirled around, strands of hair swinging into his eyes. "What am I what?"

Harry chewed his lip. "Nothing. Have a seat."

Malfoy looked at him with intrigue and then a slow grin emerged on his face. "It's called Arcadia. New cologne that Blaise designed. I'll be sure to let him know that you approve."

Harry's face flamed, but he just nodded in lieu of a response that would undoubtedly be awkward. Merlin, why was Malfoy making him so edgy?

"So are you ever going to let me Floo over?" Malfoy asked as he made his way to the sitting room.

Harry's brow furrowed. "Oh. You know, I didn't even think of that." He truly hadn't. Oddly enough, it seemed perfectly natural to have Malfoy show up at his front door rather than come sweeping through the fireplace.

The blond clucked his tongue and shook his head simultaneously. "It's alright Potter, you spend the majority of your days up in the air. It's no surprise that you've left your brain there as well."

Harry dropped his head and his shoulders shook with laughter. He could get used to this gentle teasing version of Malfoy.

They spent the next several minutes at Harry's small liquor cabinet deciding on what to drink. Malfoy surprised him by requesting scotch, while Harry settled for rum and coke.

After sitting down he fiddled with his glass nervously and looked at Malfoy's feet across from his. He was wearing what looked like basilisk-skin loafers. Harry smirked. Who wears something like that in the middle of the summer?

"What did you want to ask me?" Malfoy asked, breaking the silence.

Harry's head jerked up. He should have known that the blond would cut right to the chase.

"Actually, there are two things I need to talk to you about," Harry said, chewing apprehensively on his lip.

Malfoy lifted an eyebrow. "Go on."

Harry sighed. "When I was at the Ministry today, I spoke with Emmanuelle Portif about how I fired Tim." He tried to gauge Malfoy's reaction, but the gray eyes were guarded.

"What did she say?" he asked nonchalantly.

"She said that there was a formal complaint about him a while back, but the charges were dropped because the person was drunk. I think it was something sexual, but she never said for sure." Harry fiddled with his hands.

Malfoy was silent for long moments. "Why did they let him coach at a children’s camp?"

Harry's stomach roiled with unwarranted guilt. "They knew that I thought he was a good prospect and didn't want to go against my word. You know, Chosen One and all," he said bitterly.

A small smile lit Malfoy's face. He didn't respond, just nodded in agreement.

"So Portif asked me if I wanted to press charges and I told her that I would have to check with you." Harry looked up from his hands to Malfoy's face.

The blond’s expression was difficult to translate. Tense moments passed and he shook his head resolutely. "No. It's not worth it."

"Really?" Harry asked, completely surprised. He would have thought that given the chance, Malfoy would be all about getting justice.

"Really. He didn't hurt me, he didn't hurt Scorpius, and he didn't hurt you." Malfoy shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, it never happened."

Harry's head tilted to the side in confusion. Things had really changed for Malfoy. Or maybe it was just fatherhood that changed him. It had to be something fairly massive to rid Malfoy of his infamous vindictive streak.

"I remember a time when you broke my nose just because you could," Harry chanced. He hoped Malfoy wouldn't get upset. He wanted to be able to joke about their past.

The corners of the blond’s mouth lifted into a smile. "I'm sure you had it coming prat," he said good-naturedly.

He chuckled and they spent some time reminiscing quietly, the only real sound in the room was that of ice clinking in their glasses. Harry mentally prepared himself for the next part of the conversation.

"The other thing was, I um – came across some passes to the Quidditch Convention two weeks from now and wanted to know if you wanted to come along."

He finally dared to look Malfoy in the eye. The gray orbs flashed with several emotions before taking on a blank expression. "How did you come across them?" he asked.

Harry frowned. That was a question he hadn't been anticipating. "Well, they're actually Ron's tickets, but he invited me and said I could bring someone."

Malfoy's face remained impassive. "Weasley."

Harry nodded mutely.

"I would have to spend the whole convention in his company?" Malfoy looked down at his glass.

"I would be there too," Harry reminded, hoping that was a selling point.

Malfoy seemed to give a genuine smile. "Indeed you would be. But even if I'm willing to spend two days with you and Weasley, I don't think he would be too keen on spending that much time with me."

Harry sighed. "I thought about that too, but I can talk to him."

A beat of silence followed.

"Was I your last resort?" Malfoy asked, running his fingers along the condensation of his glass.

"No. Why would you think that?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I just thought that given the chance you would have your pick of Weasleys to go along with you."

A twinge of guilt crept into Harry's stomach. "If it was left up to Ron I'm sure that's what would have happened. But when he asked me, you were my first choice."

The clouds shrouding Malfoy's face cleared rapidly. "Did he have an aneurysm at the mere mention of my name?" Malfoy asked, a mischievous grin playing on his face now.

Harry returned the expression with vigor. "Actually, he thinks you're a girl I'm seeing."

Malfoy coughed politely, but Harry's grin just grew wider. For the blond, that was the equivalent of someone's jaw dropping in horror. When he finally pulled himself together he said, "And you just let him believe that?"

"Why not? It's not like I was going to tell him about you right then. Especially when I wasn't even sure if you would want to come."

Another quiet silence settled over them both. Had Harry looked up from his glass he would have seen Malfoy biting his lip in concentration. "I don't think it's a good idea that I go."

Harry hadn't realized how much he was hoping for Malfoy's acceptance until he said no. "Why not?" he asked softly.

"If you recall, I have good reason to not want to be around someone who despises me and my family," his tone was chilly.

Harry grimaced, remembering again the fight with Tim, but also the bruises that crawled along Malfoy's side, marring the ivory skin. He wondered if they still lingered.

"I remember," he said finally, "but Ron would never do something like that." Unless provoked…

Malfoy opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He closed it, opened it, and then tried again. "To be perfectly honest, it makes me nervous." He looked like the fact that he was being so forthcoming made him ill.

Harry's heart softened at the admission. "Don't be nervous. I'll protect you." He hadn't meant to whisper, but that was how it wound up coming out.

Malfoy's pewter eyes stared into Harry's and he tried not to squirm under the attention. He was expecting a sarcastic response.

"I don't need you to protect me Potter," Malfoy said, but his tone was quiet and had no bite to it.

The gentleness of the statement heartened Harry. He crossed the room and knelt in front of Malfoy, much in the way he had when analyzing his bruises in the kitchen. "I know you don't need me to. But I'd like to. You know I like to play hero," he added, smiling lightly.

He found his breath quickening as Malfoy scooted to the edge of the chair and slowly brought his forehead to rest on Harry's. The brunet couldn't move. The warmth of Malfoy's body was wrapping him up in the most tantalizing cocoon he'd ever experienced. A tingling sensation darted across the skin of his forehead and he swore that he could feel Malfoy's magic dancing along with his own.

"Let me think about it," Malfoy said, his lips dangerously close to Harry's own in this position. He had nearly forgotten the question he posed, so engrossed he was with the blond.

Harry inhaled shakily. "Alright." He braced himself to stand up, placing his hands on Malfoy's knees. Malfoy placed his hands on top of Harry's, effectively stopping the motion. He pulled back a little, looking in Malfoy's eyes. His gaze was questioning.

"What do you want to do now?" Malfoy asked, tone still quiet as the grave.

Harry had to close his eyes so that he didn't blurt out the first thing that came to mind. "So many things," he admitted once he'd composed himself.

"Like what?"

"Things that I think it's too soon to do," Harry said, swallowing with an audible gulp.

Malfoy teased Harry's knuckles with the tips of his fingers. "When will it be the right time?"

"You know, you ask a lot of questions," Harry chuckled quietly.

"Stop avoiding the question."

Harry was slowly losing control of his senses. The only thing that was really focused was his hearing. The beat of his heart was like a thunderstorm in his ears, blood pumping dangerously fast. He really hoped that he wouldn't pass out. That wouldn't be the best way to impress his…date? Is that what this was?

 _Stop avoiding the question_ , his mind echoed Malfoy's statement back to him.

Fuck it.

Harry brought himself closer to Malfoy and gently placed his lips against the blonds. A small whimper that he was certain Malfoy didn't mean to make, escaped from the back of his throat.

Merlin. This was heaven. Malfoy's lips were soft and pliant, welcoming the caresses that Harry was now issuing. Malfoy's grip on his hands tightened and the blond deepened the kiss, rubbing his nose along Harry's as he traced the very tip of his tongue along Harry's upper lip.

This was too much. Harry couldn't breathe. How was this even happening? They were only kissing! Malfoy was _only_ sliding his tongue into Harry's mouth. He was _only_ twisting his tongue along Harry's, drawing a deep moan from the brunet's throat. They were _only_ pressed up against each other so tightly that it was like they were trying to meld their bodies together. No big deal.

Liar.

Shakily, Harry pulled back and looked into Malfoy's eyes, praying that he was just as affected. He was not disappointed. Gray eyes were glazed over in front of him, struggling to focus as though he'd forgotten his reading glasses.

"Why -" Malfoy began, and then tried again after clearing this throat. "Why did you stop?"

Harry looked at him. "Because…it was intense."

"What's wrong with a little intensity?" Malfoy asked, dropping his forehead back onto Harry's.

"Why are you still asking questions?" Harry inquired.

Malfoy didn't respond and just waited for him to continue. "I don't want to go too fast," Harry admitted.

Licking his lips slowly, Malfoy placed a hand on the side of Harry's face. "Ok," he whispered.

Harry swallowed and remembered when Tim said that he would go slowly. "Are you sure? I just – I don't want things to get fucked up again. Tim said the same thing."

Malfoy pulled himself up into a haughty stance that Harry was infinitely more familiar with. "First of all, don't compare me to that half-wit. Second of all, I gave you my Wizards Oath. Combine that with my obligations of being a Malfoy and we're one step short of having an Unbreakable Vow."

Harry sniggered and finally leaned into Malfoy's touch.

The blond cleared his throat and then spoke. "Is it true that Tim was your first experience with a man?"

Harry's cheeks darkened for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. He nodded. "You're my second. But I haven't gone further than heavy petting, or whatever the hell they call it."

"The fact that you don't know the terms doesn't bode well Potter," Malfoy said, but there was no malice in his voice.

"Stuff it Malfoy," Harry chuckled and shoved at the blond’s chest playfully. "Besides, when I'm ready, you can teach me."

"Professor Malfoy," he mused. "I think I like it."

Harry bit back a small moan at all the professor/student dynamics that could play out and then shook his head to rid himself of the less than pure thoughts.

"Professor Malfoy," Harry repeated firmly, as though reading a resume, "director of pure-blood aesthetics and homoeroticism."

Malfoy snorted, an action Harry quite frankly never thought he'd see Malfoy do, before breaking out into a loud laugh.

The sight of the blond so relaxed and cheerful warmed Harry's heart. He leaned back in and placed a small, delicate kiss on Malfoy's lips.

"If you keep this up," Harry warned, "I'll be ready a lot sooner than you're expecting."

A challenge lit up Malfoy's eyes and the silver seemed to dance next to the flames moving in the fireplace. "Bring it on Potter."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since Harry is hogging the spotlight, Draco cuts in to tell his side of the story.

Draco's POV

When Draco arrived back at the Manor on Wednesday night he engaged in his usual nightly routine of checking that Scorpius was still tucked safely away under his blankets and raising all the wards before dragging back down to his suite on the second floor.

The master bedroom was decorated in deep chocolate browns and tans, perfectly coordinating with the caramel color that ran through the rest of the estate. The massive bed that took up a good portion of the room was festooned with a multitude of pillows from purest white to russet. A wine-red leather club chair was positioned between the bed and the floor-to-ceiling window that ran along one wall and he dropped into it gratefully, kicking off his shoes into the nundu fur rug next to his feet.

' _If you keep this up I'll be ready a lot sooner than you're expecting.'_

Shit. Potter had nearly done him in with that statement alone. Even now in the safety of his own home, a prickle of excitement crept along the skin surrounding his groin just at the thought. Draco's eyes fluttered shut in satisfaction as he recalled the brunet opening the front door of Grimmauld Place. He'd had three immediate reactions at seeing Potter that night. First, his breath hitched in his chest. The green eyes that were so focused on his face had made him feel completely exposed, almost to the point of embarrassment. Second, his mouth filled with saliva. Merlin, Potter looked like walking sex! Though Draco thought he might be the only one with a fetish for hot blokes in Muggle shirts and jeans. It was just something about how the fabric laid on his skin, highlighting, but not constricting the sinewy muscles of Potters chest and upper arms. And don't even get him started on the jeans. Peeking at them out of the corner of his eye had brought him to his third reaction – blood rushing to his nether-regions and engorging his cock. So much so that he had to make mindless chit-chat before the pressure lessened and he could walk comfortably again.

Then there was that kiss…

Draco couldn't remember feeling so electrified, so exhilarated just from the pressing of lips against each other and a battling of tongues. Sinking further into his seat he inched his fingertips to his inner thigh and slid them teasingly, gently grazing along the luxurious material of his slacks.

He recalled how the remainder of the evening had flowed easily, passing from one topic to the next, but always with a flick of eyes down to the other's lips, as if trying to remember if the gesture had been real or imagined.

It certainly had been real. At least it was for Draco. He was still thinking about Potter knelt down in front of him, his gaze all at once nervous and determined. His fingers crept closer to his hardness, fantasizing what it would be like to have him between his legs for an altogether different reason. Draco groaned softly and palmed his erection, shudders vibrating through his body at the necessary contact. He was going to have to learn how to control his arousal around the other man. The last thing he needed was a hard-on in the middle of the Quidditch convention.

Damn. The convention. Draco's head thudded against the back of the chair as his hand fell from the bulge in his pants. Was he really going to go? Was it really worth being around someone who most likely didn't trust him and wouldn't want to befriend him anyway just to spend some quality time with Potter?

And then Draco thought of the sincerity in Potter's emerald eyes as he told him that he wanted to be his protector, the way he'd sighed softly when Draco laid his head against the other mans, the way he always treated Scorpius as if he were Potter's own son.

Yeah, he was going. No doubt about it. He would deal with Weasley when the time came.

For now, he had a letter to write.

* * *

Harry's POV

_Potter,_

_I was thinking. If you could get over your biases about all things Malfoy and teach my son, then I should be able to get over mine and be civil to Weasley. I can handle it for as long as he can._

_So my answer is yes, I would like to go to the convention._

_One stipulation. I do not want to be there when you tell him._

_\- Draco_

Harry re-read the letter and then closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. It was Friday evening and he, Hermione, and Ron were meeting up to have a discussion about the "girl" he was supposedly seeing. His nerves were jangling and for the millionth time he tried to remember why exactly he was doing this.

_Because they're your friends and they should know this about you. And because you want Malfoy to come to the convention and he can't come if Ron doesn't know that you two are…friendly._

While he was still trying to pin a definition on 'friendly', Ron and Hermione tumbled through Harry's Floo, automatically dusting off soot.

"Mate, how are you?" Ron asked, thumping Harry on the back with his fist. Harry, who wasn't expecting the enthusiastic gesture, stumbled a bit. Chalk it up to nerves.

"Good. Hermione?" he asked as she stepped up to him and kissed him on the cheek.

"I'm doing well Harry, thank you. More than glad that you're going to tell us what's going on finally."

Harry had sent them a letter Thursday morning asking them if they could meet up the next day so that he could confess some things and talk to Ron about the convention.

"Right. Why don't you guys sit down?" Harry sat in his normal chair next to the fire, while Hermione and Ron occupied the couch closer to the kitchen.

He looked at them solemnly, opened his mouth, and then promptly closed it. The tips of his sneakers seemed like a good place to look right now, so that was where he directed his attention. "This is somewhat of a three-fold confession," Harry muttered.

Hermione's eyebrows rose. "Three confessions in one night. That's a lot for you."

Harry gave a reluctant smile. "Yeah, I know. So…listen, I know you guys have noticed that I haven't really dated since Ginny and I've more or less been a homebody since the war. And then when the Ministry approached me about camp, it gave me something to throw myself into, but it also was the catalyst that made me realize something about myself."

"Are you part Veela?" Ron asked, humor dancing in his eyes.

Harry initially stared at him in confusion and then chuckled, while Hermione elbowed her boyfriend in the ribs. "Ron!" she chastised.

Ron didn't look nearly as sorry as he should have. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

"I haven't even confessed yet," he laughed.

"Hush," Hermione said when Ron opened his mouth again. "Harry, go on."

He could do this. These were his best friends. They'd seen him through thick and thin. There was no way they would let something like his sexuality keep them apart.

Harry inhaled deeply. "I'm gay."

There was a beat of silence before Hermione got up from her seat on the couch and crossed over to sit on the arm of Harry's chair. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know."

Harry's head whipped around to face her. On the way, he caught Ron's flabbergasted expression. At least  _one_  of them was having a reaction consistent with his expectations. "You knew?" he and Ron exclaimed at the same time.

She gave a modest shrug. "It wasn't too hard to figure out. I didn't say anything because I knew you'd come to us when you were ready."

"I – I didn't know for sure until just recently." Harry's cheeks were flaming, but his brain was racing along at several hundred miles per hour, trying to comprehend. He'd been building himself up, bracing himself to reveal this earth-shattering revelation, and they already knew. Well,  _Hermione_ knew. Ron was –

Well, Ron's head was darting back and forth between Harry and Hermione, mouth agape as though he were watching a table tennis match between two Jarveys.

"Ron?" he asked hesitantly.

The red-head just blinked. "Why don't you just give us the rest of the news now so I can absorb the shock all at once? Pull it off like a bandage, you know?"

Harry nodded. "I went out on a date with Tim at my job, but it didn't work out," he rushed, "and I'm thinking about dating Draco Malfoy."

Hermione chuckled. "Honestly Harry, you don't have to make everything into a joke."

Harry frowned. "It's not a joke. I really like him. He's changed."

The woman stared at him from her perch on the armchair, a quizzical expression encompassing her face. She hadn't worn a look quite so puzzled since she tried in vain to understand why Divination was being taught at Hogwarts.

"You know Mione?" Ron began. "Of all the things he's told us, him being into Malfoy is the least surprising."

And Harry couldn't help it. He didn't know if it was the nonchalant way in which Ron had spoken the words, or if it was the fact that Harry actually agreed with him, but he burst out laughing, catching his friends completely off guard. He laughed until tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. By that point, Hermione had slid off the chair and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Harry, staring at him like he was a new breed of algae. He caught his breath and shook his head in amusement.

"Sorry," he muttered. It's just that Ron's right." He looked his friend in the eye as he continued. "I think I was attached to Malfoy even before I was attached to the idea of being gay."

"You were  _obsessed_  with Malfoy," Ron corrected.

"Ok. I was obsessed with Malfoy. Happy?"

"Not really," Ron muttered and this time Hermione laughed.

"Come on Ron, I know it will take some getting used to and maybe some alcohol, but if this is what Harry wants…if that's  _who_  he wants…" She turned back to give Harry a sweet smile.

"I'm not one-hundred percent sure yet," Harry admitted. "But I did kiss him."

"What!" Hermione shrieked. Ron dropped his head in his hands and groaned as though he were going to be ill any moment.

"How? When?" she asked, seemingly unable to decide which question to start with.

Ron made a pleading face, not wanting to hear more, but Harry wanted to torture him a little. He considered this payback for all the disgusting stories he had to hear about 'Lav-Lav' in school. "Wednesday night. He came over for drinks."

Hermione looked impressed. "Wow, drinks Harry. That's – well, that's a big step."

"I don't think it's a huge deal. He's promised me we can take it slow. He knows that I don't have much experience."

"Which brings us round to your second confession," Ron said, his nosiness overcoming his sensitive stomach. "You went out with Tim? From your job?"

Harry's face darkened. "Yeah, it didn't go so well though. He was an ass and was terrible to Draco and it was all I could do to -"

"Whoa whoa, hang on. Did you just say 'Draco'?" Ron asked, looking ill again.

Harry blinked. Yeah, he guessed he had.

Hermione looked at him with something akin to pride. "Harry," she said softly. "You really like him."

"That's his name," Harry mumbled, trying to downplay the slip.

She shook her head with a quiet smile, but didn't comment further. "How did Malfoy and Tim meet up in the first place?" she asked.

A sigh escaped Harry's mouth. "I was at work late one night and Tim came in and was trying to get me to go out on another date and I didn't want to because….well, he was just getting too aggressive. Subconsciously, I think I knew I wasn't ready for what he wanted. Anyhow, Malfoy showed up because he wanted to talk to me and it went downhill from there. I had to fire him." Harry bit his bottom lip to stop from saying more.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry." Hermione placed a hand on Harry's knee in sympathy.

"Sorry mate," Ron chimed in. "Though, I guess -" he trailed off at the end of his sentence.

"What?" Harry asked.

Ron's face flamed red with embarrassment. "I guess if he makes you happy, Malfoy that is, then I'm happy for you."

A large grin grew on Harry's face. "Thanks Ron. That means a lot."

Ron nodded quietly and gave his own smile back.

"So I guess you'd be ok if he came with us to the Quidditch convention?" Harry asked, testing the waters.

Ron went from beet-red to flushed and pale in nanoseconds. "Are you joking?  _That_ _'_ _s_  who you want to come with us?"

Harry nodded emphatically. "Yes. I would like Draco to come with us to the convention and I would love it if you two were cordial to one another."

Ron looked at him skeptically. "Look mate, I know you like him and all, but it's going to be hard for me to not think of him as a git."

"I think he feels the same way about you," Harry chuckled, shoulders shaking with laughter at the look of outrage on Ron's face.

After a few moments of sputtering, Ron responded. "Fine. If you can keep him under control, then he can come."

Harry's eyebrow rose. "Funny, one would think someone would need to be  _out_  of control to come."

Ron scrunched up his face in disgust while Hermione tittered quietly from the floor.

Harry looked at his friends with a satisfied smile. Everything was going to be ok.

* * *

Harry should have known that things were going too well.

He and Ron had made plans for the convention and Harry had sent an owl to Draco right after his friends left to announce the good news. Saturday afternoon came quickly after and had him practicing with Scorpius as normal and flitting around on his broom in high spirits. Maybe he could blame it on that fact that he was so blissfully unaware that he didn't see it coming. And neither had Scorpius apparently. It was one of Harry's more stupid accidents. Something that absolutely could have been avoided had he just been paying attention.

Harry had turned midair to chase after the Quaffle that had gotten away from him. He made an abrupt stop when the ball suddenly bounced back into his hands. But Scorpius, who'd been tearing after him, couldn't stop his broom in time to avoid colliding into Harry. They both fell to the ground, slow enough for Harry to grab Scorpius protectively, but too fast to cast any spell to slow their descent. And of course, Draco was actually in the house this time, instead of watching Harry and Scorpius fly while pretending to do paperwork.

Cringing, Harry braced for impact and fell on his side.

Hard.

* * *

Draco's POV

Draco saw the fall happen from the window of his study. But there was nothing he could do to stop it. It happened too fast, was too sudden. Cursing the fact that he couldn't Apparate in and out of the Manor, he raced down the staircase, taking the steps two at a time and almost breaking his neck to get out to the pitch. When he arrived there, he was winded and his chest hurt. He was really going to have to start working out more.

Harry was crumpled on his side in the grass, grimacing, but holding Scorpius, who seemed to be perfectly intact, in his arms. Draco rushed to their sides, visually checking Scorpius for any injuries before gathering him in his arms and trying to soothe his cries.

"Coach Harry! I'm so sorry!" he wailed.

Draco smoothed the boy's hair back from his head and cooed, "You didn't mean to. Let's make sure he's alright."

Draco's heart was thundering in his chest as he knelt down next to Potter, who had his eyes closed.

"Harry," he whispered, placing a tentative hand on his side.

Harry's face worked in pain, but he finally opened his eyes. "Your eyes are really gray," he responded.

Draco's heart skipped a little and then he remembered that Scorpius was right next to him, worried sick about his coach.

"Obviously you're suffering from a concussion on top of your other injuries," Draco muttered, trying to assess the damage, but silently glad that the git hadn't actually been knocked unconscious.

"Don't make me laugh. Hurts too much," Harry said through gritted teeth.

Beside him, Scorpius crawled up to Harry on his hands and knees, tears streaming down his face. "Coach Harry, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, but I couldn't stop and -"

"Shh, Scor, it's ok. I'll be fine. It was an accident." Strong words from a man who was shaking with pain and whose eyes were slowly sliding shut again.

Scorpius merely looked at him, large tears still rolling from his eyes, which were wide as saucers.

"Keep your eyes open Harry," Draco tutted. Though he'd joked about it a few moments ago, there was a slight possibility that Harry really did have a concussion. Better to not take any chances.

"Scorpius," he said, wanting to give his son something to do to keep his mind off of the accident. "Please go into my study and bring me my wand." He had rushed out of the house so quickly to make sure that everyone was alright that he'd gone without wand the first.

Once Scorpius was out of earshot, Harry let out a groan. "Is it your hip?" Draco asked, still trying to evaluate the damage.

Harry's voice was gasping and tight when he replied. "Yes, and my shoulder."

Draco's eyes softened. "As soon as I have my wand I can levitate you inside. Do you think you need to go to St. Mungo's?"

Harry's eyes shot open again. "No! I refuse to go there."

Draco's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Why not?"

Harry chewed so hard on his bottom lip that Draco thought he was going to cut clear through it.

"No peace in that place. Plus it would be on the front page of the Prophet or something by morning. Anyway, it doesn't hurt that bad," Harry said, throwing Draco a weak smile.

"Don't be more of an idiot than usual. You're in pain." Draco's eyes narrowed with worry.

"Ok fine, I'm in pain. But I'm still not going to the hospital." Harry stated, all Gryffindor stubbornness and imprudence.

Draco closed his eyes and prayed for patience. "I have a mild pain-relieving potion, but I'll have to make you something stronger if you insist on avoiding St. Mungo's."

"Thank you," Harry said, and let his eyes slide back shut.

By that time, Scorpius had fetched Draco's wand and seemed to have calmed down considerably.

"Here dad," he said, handing over the hawthorn wand and then plopping back down on the grass next to Harry. His hand hovered over Harry's form as though he were trying to absorb the pain through his skin, but knowing enough not to touch.

Draco turned his attention back to Harry and cast a few diagnostic spells he'd learned during that absurd maternity class he'd been forced to attend with Larissa. Harry seemed to be fairly ok. No broken bones miraculously, but large contusions on his right hip and shoulder where he'd taken the brunt of the impact. He was going to have trouble walking for a few days, but Draco supposed that was better than being in a coma.

"We're going to take you inside now Harry," Draco stated, already pulling his wand back out and casting the Levitation Charm. With Scorpius' help, he led Harry gingerly around doors and sharp corners and into the house, finally settling him down in a spare bedroom on the second floor.

A frown crossed Harry's features.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Is this your bedroom?" Green eyes blinked lazily. The room was certainly opulent, but Draco's chambers were across the hall.

"You wish," Draco said under his breath so that Scorpius wouldn't hear him.

Harry chuckled and then winced. "I told you not to make me laugh," he chided.

"Alright, I'm going to get that pain potion. I'll be back in a moment. Scorpius?"

The small blond looked at him worriedly. "Yes dad?"

Draco managed to soften his tone. "Will you keep our patient company while I go find that potion?"

"Of course," Scorpius said and bounded onto the bed. He was careful not to get too close to Harry's injuries.

Draco swept out of the room and down to his lab in the basement. Upon reaching the room, which uncannily resembled the Slytherin dungeons, he paused, leaning against one of the cool stone walls to gather his strength. Harry Potter was currently in his house, in one of his beds for some indeterminate length of time. Completely vulnerable.

The blond cursed quietly. This was going to be difficult. He thought back to their kiss from Wednesday night and how he'd been plagued with Harry-filled thoughts ever since. Reminiscing about how soft his lips had felt under his own. The feel of his knuckles under Draco's fingers, and the fire that roiled in his belly at the sound of Harry's not so quiet moans and gasps.

Draco inhaled deep enough to cause a faint pop along his spine. It would take Zen-like patience to try and keep himself in check. And somehow, he didn't think Harry would take it easy on him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Draco gets touchy...Harry touches back.

Harry’s POV

As it turns out, falling from the sky and landing in an awkward heap on the ground hurts like hell. And even though Harry was reclining on his uninjured side a deep throbbing pain gripped his right hip and shoulder with every inhalation. He was lying on a ridiculously comfortable bed in one of Draco's spare bedrooms and trying with all his might to hide the tenderness he was experiencing from Scorpius. The mini Malfoy was chattering to him animatedly, but Harry could detect a trace of lingering guilt lurking in the platinum eyes. He placed a gentle hand on Scorpius' shoulder. Well, he placed his _fingertips_ on his shoulder. Scorpius was seated at the edge of the bed and Harry couldn't quite reach far enough to rest his hand fully.

"Scorpius," Harry began when the child stopped speaking mid-sentence and looked at him questioningly. "I don't want you to be upset about what happened. It was an accident. I know you didn't do it on purpose."

The admission seemed to rupture the boy's façade. His face fell as he stammered, "I know, but you're hurt and -"

"And I'm sure I'll probably be hurt again at some point. Quidditch isn't the safest sport in the world." He frowned, thinking about Ginny saying the same thing to him a few years ago. "Besides, I got hurt much worse when I was in school."

"Really?" Scorpius asked, a look of morbid fascination creeping onto his face.

Harry nodded as best he could from his position on his side. "Really. A Bludger broke my arm once. And when my teacher tried to heal me, he vanished my bones by mistake and I had to have them re-grown." He used the title 'teacher' with some distaste when describing Lockhart.

The small face before him cringed. "That's awful."

"It was, but it was only for one night and then I was fine again. No harm, no foul."

Harry watched as Scorpius seemed to consider the story and looked slightly little less crestfallen.

"Hey, you're still my best flier," Harry added genuinely.

A broad grin erupted on Scorpius' face and he reached forward for a hug, then pulled back, remembering Harry's condition. Leaning back on his bottom he said, "Thank you sir."

Harry was so relieved to see the small boys face light up with its regular warmth that he didn't hear Draco enter from the hallway.

His eyes flitted to the blonds form as he sat down on the bed lightly and focused on the blue potion he held. Harry's nose wrinkled without his permission, his mind unwittingly thrown back to the acrid taste of Skele-Gro.

Draco seemed to read his gesture accurately. "Don't insult my brewing skills, Potter. I assure you it tastes fine. One becomes accustomed to tweaking common potions so that they are palatable to young patients." He threw an amused glace in Scorpius' direction.

Harry grinned as the boy ducked his head in mild embarrassment. He could almost see the arguments between father and son on the potency of icky-tasting brews.

Holding out his hand, Draco placed the vial in his palm, his fingers lightly brushing Harry's as they withdrew. An ardent look filled Draco's gaze, making Harry feel all at once naked and vulnerable. A light blush colored his face and he uncorked the bottle and downed the potion hastily. Draco was right. The concoction was mostly tasteless, save for a hint of cherry that made Harry smile.

"It'll probably put you out for a few hours, but it'll lessen the pain. And in the meantime I'll have a chance to get started on the healing potion." Draco made to stand up, but Harry put a tentative hand, or finger rather, on Draco's wrist.

"You have to knock me unconscious to be able to focus on brewing?" Harry asked, a grin playing on the edges of his mouth.

Draco looked like he wanted to stammer, but pulled himself together at the last minute. "Absolutely. You'd drive a potions master mad with your incessant chattering," he replied, but with a hint of a smile.

Harry gazed at him warmly and then let his fingers trail slowly from Draco's arm as he stood up, only vaguely aware of Scorpius' presence in the room. Draco cleared his throat and then gathered up his son to shuffle out of the room. At the doorway, Draco turned back to face Harry, an ambiguous expression on his face.

"Rest well Potter," he said and then whisked from the room before Harry could respond.

Harry enjoyed only a few more minutes of consciousness before a hazy sleep fell over him and he drifted off contentedly.

* * *

Harry was unsure what time it was when he awoke, or how long he had been asleep, but even with his eyes shut tightly, he could sense another presence in the room. Cautiously, he opened his eyes into narrow slits, only vaguely registering that his pain was completely gone. In the corner of the room, Harry could just make out the blond head of Draco, sitting quietly in an armchair, reading from a large hardback book. His eyes softened as he watched Draco's fingers move lightly along the edges of his current page, obviously engrossed in the subject matter. Harry hadn't noticed how long he laid there, gazing voyeuristically at the blond until he heard a drawling voice say, "I assume you're feeling better Potter?"

Harry started at the words as he hadn't even seen Draco move his eyes from the book on his lap. Testing his newly healed body, he gingerly sat up in the bed, resting his torso on the mound of pillows behind him.

"Loads, thank you," he added.

Draco placed a bookmark in the huge tome and looked at Harry critically. "Just because you're feeling better doesn't mean you're completely healed. I would say go easy on the sudden movements. Your salve is cooling right now, but should be ready in about twenty minutes."

Harry pulled a face at him because he felt fine. Great even. In fact…

"Come here."

He tried not to chuckle at the expressions battling for dominance on Draco's face. Aside from the requisite raised eyebrow, there was clear annoyance at Harry's assertive tone. But there was also intrigue there too.

"Whatever for?" Draco asked finally, after staring at Harry for several long moments.

Harry grinned cheekily. "I want to put your potion to the test."

His comment had the intended effect. A flush covered Draco's face as he intuited the true meaning behind the words. The dictionary-sized book was placed carefully on a side table before the blond crossed the room and sat down next to Harry. Steeling himself, he held out a hand and was pleasantly surprised when Draco accepted it and held it softly.

"Come here. Closer," Harry amended, this time in a low whisper and a tug of Draco's hand.

Draco swallowed audibly. "Are you sure?" His voice was hoarse and there was an expression akin to panic visible in his eyes.

"Positive." Harry scooted forward a bit, more than willing to meet Draco halfway. More slowly than he would have liked, Draco shifted his body on the bed so that he faced the head, about a foot from Harry.

"Now what?" the blond asked quietly.

"This."

Harry leaned into the gap between them, lips parted and hoping against hope that he wasn't crossing the line. He closed his eyes in anticipation but after an eternity he felt those magnificent lips on his again. Their mouths moved together languidly, small sighs quickly filling the room and Harry was overcome with the need to feel Draco's body beneath his fingers. Inching forward slowly, but never breaking the kiss, he moved close enough so that he could feel the heat radiating from the blonds body. Harry slipped his fingers onto Draco's slim hip and was rewarded with a whimper and a bite on his lower lip.

"Merlin Draco," Harry muttered against his lips.

"Mmm," was Draco's response as he moved one of his hands to tangle in Harry's hair. The kiss was growing more fervent with every tug of hair and caress of skin. Harry thanked the stars that he could breathe through his nose, as Draco's mouth was firmly attached to his own, leaving no gap for air whatsoever.

A pressure was growing steadily in the pit of Harry's stomach and he knew he needed to do something, something daring that would lessen some of this tension.

Keeping his right hand on Draco's hip, he moved his left to cradle the back of his head, none too gently moving it to the side to expose the side of his neck. He placed hot open-mouthed kisses on Draco's neck, pleased when he could feel the chest against his heaving rapidly.

"Yes Harry," was the moan that whispered against his ear. Effectively spurred on, he followed up the kisses with tiny bites, pulling the thin skin between his teeth with abandon.

Merlin this was good. Almost too good. Harry refrained from following the advice of his cock, which wanted to take a journey into parts unknown in Draco's body, and dragged both hands under the back of the blond’s shirt, nearly groaning at the warm skin he found there.

"Harry," Draco whispered.

_Yes, say my name again._

"Shit…Harry."

Harry made a sound that could only be categorized as a growl and pulled Draco closer to him until he could he could feel the blazing heat from the other man's groin. But Draco placed his hands between their bodies and pressed firmly on Harry's chest.

"Harry - stop."

He flicked his eyes up to Draco's and took in the hesitant and somewhat apologetic expression.

"S'thematter?" Harry asked, concerned that his voice wasn't working properly.

"You don't think this is going too fast?" Draco slid his hands up Harry's chest and over his shoulders to clasp behind his neck.

"Too fast?" Harry's brain was struggling to follow. If only Draco's hands didn't feel so electrifying on his neck. Maybe then he could concentrate.

Draco rolled his eyes playfully. "Yes. Too fast. You didn't want to rush things, remember?"

Harry blinked. His thoughts were returning slowly. "Right. Um."

Well, maybe not _all_ his thoughts.

The blond released his grip on Harry's neck and scooted back a few inches from their embrace allowing Harry to answer the question with a modicum of intelligence.

"I don't want to rush things," he admitted. "But…"

Harry exhaled sharply, causing Draco to look at him inquisitively. "But?" he prodded.

"But, it's like I can't help myself when I'm around you. You're just so…fucking sexy." He closed his eyes, thoroughly discomfited by the declaration.

Draco laughed quietly. "And you're not?" he questioned.

Harry's eyes flew back open. "You think I'm sexy?" he asked. The warmth in his abdomen was starting to accumulate again.

"Do hippogriffs have wings?"

"Point." Harry grinned at Draco, heart melting at the natural smile on the blonds face.

"I should get back down to the lab and check on the salve. Besides, Scorpius is wandering around somewhere, I'm sure, and the last thing I need is him walking in on this." Draco gestured to the proximity between their bodies.

* * *

Draco’s POV

"Speaking of your son, are you going to say anything to Scorpius about us?" Harry asked.

Draco's chest tightened. In the back of his mind there had been a quiet on-going conversation about that very topic. What to say to Scorpius. He and Harry had only been fooling around for a few days. And it was _only_ fooling around so far. It wasn't like they were officially dating or anything. At least Draco didn't think so.

He gave a tiny shrug. "I don't know. I don't like saying anything to him unless I'm sure that the person's going to be around for a while. I can't have him getting invested for flings, you know?" It was the honest truth. He couldn't imagine how heartbroken his son would be if he explained that he was dating Harry and then the brunet decided he had made a mistake and left. Draco would be the one to pick up the pieces.

Harry gave him an assessing gaze. "Do you think I'm the type of person that's interested in just a fling?"

_No._

That was Draco's knee-jerk response, but for some reason he just couldn't get it out. It seemed too revealing. He felt like he should be more protective of his feelings and emotions so early in this. Would he scare Harry away if he admitted he was interested in a relationship?

Apparently, while Draco's brain was considering all of his points, Harry was waiting for an answer. And the delay in his reply was giving Harry the wrong impression. When Draco looked into his face Harry's jaw had tensed. Draco wet his lips to speak quickly.

"No. I don't." Draco nearly sighed audibly as Harry's features relaxed.

"Obviously, it's up to you when and what you tell Scorpius about us, but I want you to know that no matter what happens I would never intentionally hurt either of you."

Damned lump in Draco's throat, making it hard for him to swallow. Harry's words were heartfelt and he found himself nodding in agreement even before his words caught up. "I know you wouldn't. That's just…a big step. I can't tell you the last time I told Scorpius I was seeing someone."

Harry nodded compassionately. "Does he know that you're…you know?"

Draco lifted an eyebrow in response. "Connoisseur of cock? Prince of prick? Devotee of -"

"Gay!" Harry shouted in between peals of laughter. "Does he know that you're gay?"

Draco chuckled. "Yes. I've had that conversation with him. I still don't know if he truly understands, but he seems to be alright with it."

"Ok." Harry seemed to be content with the outcome of their little discussion, so Draco took the opportunity to make his way downstairs. He eased off the bed.

"I'm going to get your salve. I'll be back in a few minutes."

After Draco retrieved the salve from his lab and transferred it into a tin jar, he made his way back upstairs to what he had begun to call 'Harry's room,' though he would never admit it. Unless under Veritaserum.

He knew that he hadn't been gone for more than ten minutes, but that did not change the fact that Harry's head had lolled back on the pillows of the bed and the brunet was snoring softly.

 _He must still be feeling that potion_ , Draco thought and then winced. He hoped that he hadn't made it too concentrated. Which made him question the strength of the salve he was currently holding. Well, if anything, it would allow Harry's bruises to heal more quickly, and that was always a good thing.

"Harry," he called softly from the doorway.

The brunet snorted loudly, stopped snoring, but didn't wake.

Draco frowned. It would be best if the salve could be applied now before Harry started aching again. He would just have to put it on himself. Resignedly, he crossed back over to the bed and perched himself gingerly on the edge. He unscrewed the lid of the jar as quietly as he could and dipped two fingers into the ointment. Rucking up the sleeve of Harry's t-shirt with his other hand, Draco began rubbing the substance onto Harry's shoulder in gentle circles. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of soft skin and distantly wondering if Harry would be mad about this should he wake up in the middle of it.

But he couldn't be concerned about that right now. Harry's skin was just too damned enticing. Tossing a quick glance to the still-closed green eyes, Draco scooped out another glob of salve, only this time heading for Harry's hip. It was going to prove difficult, since he didn't want to unbutton the man's jeans and possibly rouse him.

In the end, he settled for gingerly lifting the bottom of Harry's shirt and sliding his fingers under the waistband of the jeans until he felt his hipbone. Making sure the entire area was coated was hard because Harry's jeans were on the tight side and Draco couldn't get a full range of motion. Alternatively, he rubbed his fingers up and down on the skin he could reach and he bit his lip. Harry was just so bloody warm.

"If you wanted to grope me you could have just said so," a sleepy voice said.

Draco jumped about three feet off the bed and jerked his fingers out of Harry's jeans in shock. "I'm sorry," he stated automatically. "I didn't want to wake you up, but you need the salve now, so I…" he trailed off, waiting for Harry's response.

"So you wanted to tease me and see if you could get me hard again? Because if that was your plan, it worked." Harry's eyes were still closed, but a huge grin took up the bottom third of his face.

"Prat." Draco muttered and screwed the lid back on the jar. But he did _not_ drop his gaze down to Harry's crotch to see if he was telling the truth about being hard. Therefore he ignored the smug grin that Harry threw in his direction after he'd opened his eyes.

Yes, Potter was a bloody prat.

* * *

Time was beginning to fly by for Draco. If he hadn't already been well-versed in the limitations of spatial magic, he would say someone was manipulating his days, speeding them up and then stretching them out at will. He suspected that Harry had something to do with this mysterious change in the passage of time. Harry who had healed beautifully from his injury and was now busy making Draco…happy.

That's not to say that he wasn't happy before. He had Scorpius and his house and work to keep him content. But if he were perfectly honest with himself, he was more or less going through his days unseeing, completing one routine after the other. Harry's entrance into his life had afforded him more excitement.

Why, Draco had already spent two late evenings this week meeting Harry over at the camp office and becoming…acquainted with his desk. And it was only Thursday. He blushed just thinking about those nights and thought that even though they were passionate, he'd been very careful not to cross Harry's invisible comfort line. The most Harry had done was cup Draco's erection through his slacks and rub it roughly through the fabric. But Draco hadn't wanted to come in his pants, so he asked Harry to stop.

It was just difficult for him to gauge where Harry was emotionally. He certainly didn't want to give him the impression that he was a cock-tease, but he didn't want him to feel forced into something just because Draco suggested it either. He sighed, wondering how much longer he would have to walk the fine line.

Deep in thought as he was, he flinched when he heard Scorpius at the door of his study.

"Hi dad," he said with a soft smile.

Draco's heart clenched. His son was growing up so quickly. He was still astounded at how well Scorpius flew when he watched him practicing with Harry on Saturdays. Soon he would be heading off to Hogwarts and Draco would be at home alone. Well, maybe not _all_ alone. Maybe Harry would be willing to spend some extra time with him. That thought brought a smile to his face. And speaking of Harry…

"Scorpius, I wanted to talk to you about a few things." He gestured to the one of the plush chairs in front of his desk and his son sat down straight away. Draco frowned and then moved from his leather chair to the chair next to Scorpius. This felt like it should be more of a side-by-side conversation.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, looking at Draco with wide eyes.

"No, you didn't do anything," Draco assured.

_That I know of…I'll be sure to check with the elves later._

"I wanted to talk to you about Harry. You like him right?" Draco was 90 percent sure the answer was yes, but you never know. Kids can surprise you.

"I do. He's brilliant!" Scorpius began.

Draco latched on to the boy's enthusiasm. "I like him too," he admitted, carefully watching his son's face for recognition. " _Like_ like," he added, feeling only moderately absurd.

"Like you want to kiss him?" Scorpius asked, his expression mingled with both disgust over cooties and interest over the novelty of the situation.

"Yes," he said with a smile. "In fact, I suppose you could say he's my boyfriend." Of course, he and Harry hadn't used that word out loud yet, but he figured it was the best way to explain the circumstances.

"That's fantastic!" Scorpius cried.

Draco was taken aback. He hadn't expected such an eager response. "You're alright with this?" he asked slowly.

"Course dad! Coach Harry is so fun. He's really nice and he's great at Quidditch. Is he going to move in with us?"

Draco's eyes widened. "Um, no." He fought a shiver as he imagined Harry's reaction after being asked to move into the Manor after they'd been dating for two weeks. That would most assuredly end badly.

"He's not moving in, but I am going with him to the Quidditch Convention this weekend. So you're going to be here with the elves and Uncle Blaise."

Scorpius frowned for the first time. "Uncle Blaise?" he whined. "Can't I come with you and Harry?"

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched, utterly amused at his son's unwillingness to remain behind with Blaise. The man was rather boring to children. Unless those children were interested in smelling cologne samples.

"We don't have enough passes for you to come Scorpius. But I promise when we get back we'll think of something fun for the three of us to do together."

"Ok dad." As the boy slid out of his seat and went back to his studies, Draco leaned back in his chair with his hands entwined behind his head. His mind was racing with something fun to do, but the only participants he had in mind were himself, Harry, and a large soft bed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Explicit sexual content.
> 
> In this chapter Harry is teased and pleased, while Draco has doubts.

Harry's POV

"What did you think about Eoin?" Harry asked Phil from across the room.

"He was a great flier. Little daft though. Don't know if the kids would look at him as an authority figure. Hell, I don't know if I could look at him that way."

Harry nodded in silent agreement, trying not to show his growing impatience at the situation. He had known ahead of time that it would be an ordeal trying to find a replacement coach so late into camp, but the prospects were turning out to be even worse than anyone had anticipated. Though Harry and the other coaches had been interviewing potential hires for two weeks there had not been a candidate to truly stand out.

"I guess that leaves Sherwin then," Allie piped in from her desk.

Phil scowled at his sister. "You just fancy him, that's all."

Allie blushed, but muttered, "Do not," and returned back to her paperwork.

"I think she's right though," Harry admitted. Sherwin was an excellent flier and seemed to have loads of patience, which was practically a prerequisite for working with the kids. But he didn't really have any experience and that was worrisome for Harry. The young man had only been out of Hogwarts for two years and hadn't even held any team captain positions when he was there. However, when compared with the rest of the lot that had been interviewed, he really did seem to be their best bet.

Phil rolled his eyes in mock disgust but asked, "Do you want me to owl him to let him know?"

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it, I'll do it. You two go home." Once again, he was working late, but he would hopefully receive some gratification for his efforts soon, in the form of a sarcastic blond.

"If you're sure…" Allie began. Her eyes darted around the office quickly as though trying to find something else she could work on.

He and Phil shared a smirk before he responded. "I'm sure."

Harry waited patiently for Allie and Phil to pack up and leave while he drafted the congratulatory letter for Sherwin. He waited ten minutes after their departures before putting down his quill. The muscles in his back slid with languor as he stretched forward with his arms in front of him. A smile came to his face as he admired the glassy sheen of his desk and the memories of Draco's first late-night visit flooded his vision.

The rendezvous had been completely unplanned, of course. Draco had merely dropped by to talk. It wasn't Harry's fault that the blond looked so delectable in his work robes that Harry had pressed him up against the desk and snogged him heatedly. That was a good night, even if it hadn't ended with him buried balls deep in Draco's ass.

It was strange what was happening with them. While Harry was still slightly tentative about taking things further with the blond, his hesitancy laid more with making sure Draco was comfortable than with being afraid of the intimacy itself. He wasn't frightened with Draco. Didn't feel like he would be disappointing him if he wasn't seductive enough or didn't know the best way to give a handjob. And that lack of fear gave him more purchase to air his desires.

Right on cue, the front door of the office opened and Draco strode through, still wearing his work robes. Harry was pleased to notice that, as he _may_ have mentioned just how much he liked them. He was also pleased at the way his lungs seemed to struggle for oxygen every time Draco walked in the room. It boded well for future encounters when there would be significantly fewer articles of clothing. Draco's eyes were shining and fluid tonight, almost liquid in quality, and Harry wanted to swim in the gray depths.

"Evening Harry," Draco said casually. He moved across the room with a confident grace, robes swinging about his legs in a manner that reflected their owner's magnificence.

"Hey you," Harry replied quietly. He watched with interest as Draco moved over to his seat and sat on the edge of the desk, in between Harry's legs. Harry placed his hands on Draco's knees as they talked.

"How was your day?" Draco asked, trailing his fingertips along Harry's hands, as he was prone to do when they were chatting.

"Better now that you're here," he responded with a lascivious grin.

Draco's eyes darkened and he pushed Harry's chair back, nearly shoving the wheeled seat into the wall with his force. He knelt on the floor between Harry's legs and ran his hands up the brunet's thighs, creating a burning path under his touch.

"Well, my day was rather shitty. Care to make up for it?" Draco asked. His eyes were dancing with mirth and at that very moment, he could have asked Harry to jump into a volcano and Harry would have done it. Repeatedly.

"Have anything in particular in mind?" he asked, leaning into Draco's form and brushing his lips against the blonds.

"Mmm, why don't you surprise me?" Draco murmured into Harry's mouth.

Harry's breath hitched in his throat and he kissed Draco passionately, barely letting him finish his sentence.

He felt all the tension in his body, every ache and pain he'd accumulated throughout the day melt away at the press of those soft and insistent lips. Harry made quick work of lifting Draco up from his kneeling position and standing them both up between the desk and the chair. He spun Draco around and pressed him up against the wall, peppering kisses along his cheeks and jaw. A shudder passed through him as Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and then changed course so that his hands cupped his ass. His fingers tore at the metallic clasp on Draco's robes and quickly slid the fabric over his shoulders, revealing a plain white button down shirt and gray slacks.

Harry cursed against the skin of Draco's neck as he moved to undo the shirt. "Why do you have to have so many fucking buttons?" Harry asked rhetorically.

Draco laughed breathlessly, but aided Harry in disrobing, working the row of buttons from the bottom up. The wide expanses of skin that were rapidly being exposed were shortening Harry's breath and sending a fresh batch of want straight to his groin. Draco's chest was creamy white and Harry just wanted to run his lips all over it, familiarize himself with the feel and smell of the skin – so he did. The blond above him let out a little gasp as Harry began mouthing his nipples, laving over the quickly hardening nubs with his tongue.

His focus narrowed solely to what he could feel under his mouth and fingers and the sounds that were pouring from Draco's throat. Harry didn't even want to look up for fear that the blonds expression would be his undoing. Instead he moved steadily lower, marveling at the hard masculine body within his grasp. Draco's hands were now tangling in Harry's hair, pulling the thick strands through his fingers and pressing Harry's face to his abdomen.

"Merlin Harry," Draco whispered as Harry dragged his tongue through the wispy blond hair on Draco's stomach, loving how the tresses slicked down against the pale skin. Before he knew what he was doing, his fingers were curled around the waist of Draco's trousers, fumbling with the buttons. It wasn't until he was at eye level with Draco's insanely hard cloth-covered cock that Harry's brain decided to function again.

Had his heart always been beating so fast, or was it the fact that he was about to do something so completely out of character that had quickened his pulse?

"Harry, you don't have to."

Harry finally decided to look up to Draco's face and immediately wished he hadn't. The blond's skin was flushed and his lips glistened, wet and red. His chest was rising and falling rapidly under the once crisp shirt that was now hanging off his shoulders haphazardly. Without breaking his gaze, he reached his hands out in front of him and gripped Draco's cock though his silk boxers and watched the gray eyes close in ecstasy.

"I want to," he finally replied. The warmth emanating from the cock in his hands was incredible, almost making Harry glad that there was a layer of cloth between it and his skin. He tugged on the hardness and marveled at the slick precome that was seeping through the fabric and coating his hand. This was his doing. Draco was hard and leaking and gasping because of Harry. The realization was heady and fueled his next movement.

He gripped the elastic of the black boxers and pulled them down in one smooth movement, trying to ignore Draco's surprised gasp. He found that Draco's cock looked much like Draco's lips in that moment. Shiny with wetness, reddened, and completely mouth-watering. Experimentally, Harry flicked his tongue out to lap at the head of the erection. Draco's knees buckled a little and his hands found their way to Harry's head for balance. Draco tasted…almost sweet, with a slightly bitter aftertaste. Although Harry would have to taste him again to be sure. With a little more confidence this time, Harry swirled his tongue around the head of the cock, dipping the tip into the slit just to see what would happen. The end result was Draco's fingers tightening in Harry's hair to the point of pain. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath in through his nose, opened his mouth around Draco's surprisingly thick cock, and began to suck.

He wasn't going to say it went perfectly, because it didn't. Harry had no clue what he was doing other than the fact that he knew he should keep his teeth covered or risk coming face to face with Draco's hawthorn. He worked about half of the thickness into his mouth and bobbed his head in a somewhat steady rhythm and tried to keep his hand on the base working at the same pace. It required a coordination that Harry wasn't sure he could manage until he allowed himself to relax and listen to what was going on above him. Chancing a look back up at Draco, he saw the blonds eyes screwed shut tightly, bottom lip drawn between his teeth, looking for all the world like all he could think about in that moment was Harry and his mouth. It made Harry feel…proud.

Encouraged, Harry hollowed his cheeks as best he could taking more and more of the hot hardness into his mouth as his throat began to relax around the intrusion. He moved his hands under the shaft to fondle Draco's testicles, rolling the sacs in a firm, but gentle manner. Against the wall, Draco was having a hard time keeping himself upright. He was whimpering in a way that Harry found most attractive, but couldn't concentrate on in an attempt to not come explosively without even being touched.

Thankfully, he didn't have much longer to suffer. While he was playing with Draco's balls, one of his fingers slipped back to rub against Draco's perineum and the blond lost control. He choked out a cry and jerked his hips forcefully into Harry's face. The splash of come coated the back of Harry's throat and he fought valiantly against his gag reflex to let the fluid slide down his gullet. He only coughed a little as he pulled back from Draco's throbbing member and caught his breath. Though he thought the blond was too engrossed in the aftershocks of his orgasm to notice.

_He looks so beautiful._

Harry greedily took in every pant, eye flutter, and flush Draco made, before releasing his cock and standing up on shaky legs to hold Draco tightly about the waist.

Unfocused gray eyes opened in front of him, and a dazed smile followed closely behind.

Harry grinned back shyly and then ducked his head to Draco's neck to place kisses along the heated skin.

"Fucking hell Harry," Draco exclaimed when he got a semblance of his voice back.

"It was alright?" Harry asked against Draco's throat.

He felt Draco's hand on the back of his neck, pulling his head up so that they were eye to eye.

"That was…" Draco seemed to be at a loss. "Spectacular? Bloody brilliant? I think you've sucked the eloquence right out of me," he said with a tired chuckle.

A sated warmth settled in Harry's chest. He was so glad that he was able to please Draco. And he made him come on his first try. And he had enjoyed it. More than enjoyed it really. The velvety softness of Draco's prick had felt so right on his tongue, in his mouth. He wondered where else it would feel right. That thought alone made his still hard cock twitch and he shook his head to get rid of the idea. One life-changing sexual experience at a time.

"I'm glad," he replied and kissed Draco.

The kiss was lazy and soft, but did not take the edge off of Harry's erection. As if it had a will of its own, it grazed against Draco's hip, seeming to bring him out of his post-orgasmic haze.

"It seems that someone's feeling neglected," Draco teased, as he reached a hand down between their bodies and gripped Harry's cock though his jeans. Harry's head instantly dropped onto Draco's shoulder, more than willing to let the blond take care of him.

It didn't take much seeing as how he'd been on the brink of orgasm the entire time he'd been sucking Draco off. Nimble fingers undid his fly and found their way into his underwear, freeing his cock from it's confinement. Harry sighed in relief as Draco pumped him steadily, thumb moving over the slick head with each pass. He was soon thrusting into Draco's fist, moaning unashamedly and biting Draco's neck all the while.

Draco was muttering little encouragements to him. _"_ _Yes_ _Harry_ _…_ _I_ _know_ _you_ _like_ _that,_ _don_ _'_ _t_ _you?...Come_ _for_ _me_ _Harry._ _That_ _'_ _s_ _right_ _love,_ _come_ _for_ _me_ _…"_

That did it. Harry's abdomen tightened dangerously and his entire body seized up with the force of his orgasm. Jets of white come coated Draco's hands and stomach as Harry shuddered his release. The room was spinning a little bit and all he could do was tighten his grip on Draco's hips and try to remain standing. Thankfully, Draco seemed to notice his instability and guided him back over to his office chair. Harry slumped back in the seat, head thrown back with fatigue, but felt Draco straddle his lap and press kisses along the sides of his face.

"Your come face is amazing, did you know that?" Draco asked him between kisses.

Harry chuckled with some effort. "I don't normally have a mirror handy when I'm coming, so no, I didn't know."

Draco swatted at him playfully. "Git."

"Mm," Harry said noncommittally.

He vaguely heard Draco laugh, but moreso felt the vibration of the laughter in his chest.

"Come on lazybones. Let's get cleaned up."

"Don't wanna. Tired."

Another guffaw from Draco. "I'm tired too, but I'm not going to sit around covered in spunk and neither will you."

Harry's nose wrinkled at the scenario and he peeked his eyes open. Draco was looking down at him with a sleepy but open gaze. "Ok," he agreed. "We've got a shower over there."

He watched as Draco's eyes flitted over to the bathroom and a grin began to curl on his face. "Excellent. Come on."

The blond clambered off Harry's lap and pulled him up and into the bathroom.

"If you can keep your eyes open, maybe I'll have another treat for you."

Harry's eyes widened at the offer and glance that Draco was throwing at Harry from over his shoulder. The gray eyes were inviting and though he was spent right now, his cock wanted so very much to stand back at attention.

"You're going to kill me Malfoy," he muttered, but took Draco's hand and allowed himself to be led into the small bathroom.

As Draco ran the shower water and began to undress Harry, he thought to himself with a smile.

_There are worse ways to die._

* * *

Draco's POV

"Do we have to go?" Draco asked in a wheedling tone that he hadn't used since he was Scorpius' age and begging Narcissa to let him stay at home while she went clothes shopping.

" _We_ don't have to go. _I'm_ going, but if you're going to pout the whole time _you_ can stay here," Harry said decisively.

Draco frowned at him. He didn't know that anyone was able to resist his pout. "I want to go," he said finally. "I just don't want to go with the Weasel."

Harry shot him a harsh look at the name-calling and responded with the slightest snap in his voice. "If it wasn't for Ron, which is his name by the way, we wouldn't have these passes."

"If we didn't have the passes," Draco began, trying a different strategy, "we could stay at home and ah…get to know each other better."

If Draco didn't know any better, he would have said that Harry stopped breathing. He stared at Draco with an unreadable expression written on his face. "Get to know each other better," he murmured, echoing Draco's words.

He took a step closer to Harry, hoping against hope that he could actually convince him to take a rain check on this event. "Yes, there are so many things you don't know about me," Draco said, allowing his voice to dip into the seductive range.

Harry took the bait and Draco fought the urge to do a crazy little dance. He wouldn't actually do it, of course. It would be unbecoming of a Malfoy. "Like what?" the brunet breathed, consciously, or maybe unconsciously leaning closer into Draco's personal space.

"Hmmm." Draco let the sound come out like a needy moan. He trailed a hand down Harry's chest, reveling in the tight build of the torso beneath his fingers. "Like what my preference is, top or bottom."

Harry closed his eyes. Draco drank in the sight and allowed himself to bask in the sensation of forcing the great Harry Potter to melt like a chocolate over a flame. He'd never felt so powerful before. Not even when a number of his companies wound up at the top of The Daily Prophet's Top Businesses to Watch list. This was a different type of power. An exhilarating self-indulgent pleasure that made Draco want to pin Harry down to the nearest bed and thrust into him repeatedly.

Draco's fingertips were still dancing along Harry's chest when he opened his eyes again. "You are evil incarnate, do you know that?" Harry whispered, gaze never breaking from Draco's.

"So I've been told," he said with a smile and a shrug.

Harry's next breath rasped out, "Nonetheless, we should get going. But when we get back…we will definitely spend some time getting to know one another." Harry placed a soft kiss on Draco's lips, squeezed the fingers curled on his chest and then stepped away. He went back upstairs, presumably to finish packing his bag. Draco was left standing in the downstairs hallway wondering what happened. If he concentrated he could still feel the ghost of Harry's lips on his own and fought the urge to bring his fingers up to his mouth just to analyze the tingling sensation. This was going to be a long two days, having to put up with the Weasel (Draco was going to call him that as much as he wanted to…in his head that is), but the prospect of coming back and maybe coming _hard_ would be worth it. He couldn't wait to show Harry what he could do.

* * *

"So you're really going with Potter?" Blaise asked him, trailing the tips of his perfectly manicured fingers along the door frame he was currently leaning against. Draco was absently-mindedly waving his wand in the direction of his overnight bag, articles of clothing floating and folding themselves in mid-air. He was fairly certain that he had everything he needed for their two-night trip, but had probably included more changes of clothes than the average person. He just wanted to be prepared, and the three bottles of lube and other "surprises" for Harry zipped up in a side compartment were a necessary part of that preparation.

"Yes Blaise, we're dating and we're going to the Quidditch Convention together. I've already explained this to you," Draco snapped.

Blaise removed his hand from the frame and folded his arms against his chest as though protecting himself from Draco's words. "I know that. But you have to see how mental this sounds. You and Potter?"

Draco blew out a breath in exasperation. "Yes, me and Potter. And it's not so mental when I'm moaning his name- "

A hand flew up in front of Blaise's face. "No! Please stop! I don't want to hear about what you two get up to in bed."

Draco couldn't help grinning wickedly. "Fine. I'll spare you the gory details of my sex life and you'll accept my relationship and look after my son for a weekend. And no making fun of Harry while I'm away."

"Who's making fun of Harry?" a small voice asked from the doorway behind Blaise. The man stepped away and revealed a confused looking Scorpius.

"No one Scorpius. Uncle Blaise just needs to get used to the fact that Harry is my boyfriend." Draco shot a pointed look in Blaise's direction.

"You don't like Harry, Uncle Blaise?" Scorpius asked.

Draco bit back a laugh as Blaise's jaw worked for several moments, trying to find the right words. "I just want your father to be careful," he admitted finally. "And I don't know Po- _Harry_ very well."

_True enough. But if everything goes well this weekend, they'll need to spend some time together. I want the three important men in my life to get along..._

Scorpius' face assessed Blaise's and then nodded in a gesture so like Draco's that he couldn't help smiling broadly.

"He's brilliant and Dad and I like him a lot. Right, Dad?"

_...but it's good to know I've already got one supporter in my corner._

"You're absolutely right Scorpius."

* * *

Before dawn the next morning, Draco was already hugging Scorpius goodbye and clapping Blaise sportingly on the back. He told them both to behave themselves and Flooed over to Grimmauld Place. Dropping his bags (yes, he had more than one) on the sitting room floor, he followed the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. As he crossed the threshold, he took in Harry perched on the kitchen counter, looking happy and excited. Draco gave him a shy grin, before turning to the other occupant in the room.

"Weasley." Draco made sure his tone was dry and completely devoid of feeling. He was doing this merely because he wanted to spend time with Harry, not because he was anxious to be blinded by the sight of red hair at every turn. Plus, there was no need to make the Weasel think that he actually _cared_ what he thought of him.

"Malfoy," Weasley responded. His voice sounded strangled, as though someone were wringing it out like a wet towel. He eyed Draco suspiciously and then turned his attention back to Harry. Draco did the same and noted that the brunet looked mildly nervous, like he was scared they were about to face off in a wizarding duel. Or get into a fist-fight. Draco had to admit that the latter was more likely.

"Ready to go?" Harry asked brightly, voice belying his expression.

Weasley gave a stiff nod and Draco shrugged his shoulders lightly. Harry rolled his eyes as he jumped down from the counter and walked silently into the sitting room.

_Dear Merlin, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all._


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are enemies becoming frenemies? Read to find out.
> 
> Oh, and mild adult content.

Harry’s POV

It didn't seem at all fair that they hadn't even left for the convention yet and Harry was already feeling the warning signs of a headache scraping along his senses. The mild twinges reveled in hindering his morning wake-up routine and only intensified gleefully upon Draco's arrival. Though to be frank, he couldn't feign shock at Draco's cool demeanor toward Ron, nor at his uncanny ability to spontaneously cause migraines. Merlin knows Harry had enough experience with both during their time at Hogwarts.

He had looked on with pleasure as Draco entered the kitchen of Grimmauld Place that morning radiating agreeability and a dash of excitement, only to watch his entire disposition transform when his eyes fell on Ron. Quintessential Malfoy mask slipped firmly back into place, he appeared to skim the surface of his familiar well of disdain to greet the redhead with an icy tone. No pretense was necessary on Ron's behalf as he effectively grunted in Draco's direction before turning away.

Harry couldn't help the way his shoulders slumped or the air of melancholy he could feel settling onto his features. He just knew that he didn't want to be around when the inevitable backbiting began. It was time for them to get going anyway. His sneakers squeaked loudly on the floor of the otherwise quiet room as he shuffled out of the kitchen and into the sitting room to collect his duffle bag.

With the strap of his navy blue bag digging uncomfortably into his shoulder, Harry peered at the fireplace, at once noticing the three expensive-looking graphite gray satchels sitting by the hearth. They were all emblazoned on the sides with a silver "DM" monogram.

"Draco?" he called, voice edging into incredulousness.

The warmth from Draco's body pressed into Harry's back so quickly he had a sneaking suspicion that he'd been snuck up on.

"Yes?"

Harry shook his head in disbelief and gestured to the overnight bags crowding the area around the fireplace. "You do realize that this is only a two-night trip?"

Draco moved effortlessly around Harry's body so that they were facing each other. "I do realize that. But one should always be prepared." A smirk was tossed Harry's way, leaving him slightly wary, but unable to investigate further as Ron was ambling into the room.

"Ready mate?" Ron asked. His best friend seemed intent on ignoring the proximity between Harry and Draco and redirected his eyes to a point somewhere above Harry's head.

Harry turned an appealing gaze to Draco before replying, but he too was decidedly avoiding Ron's stare by looking off into the distance. He let out a loud and irritated sigh.

"Yeah. Let's go." His tone of his voice was harsh even to his own ears, all sharpness with little to no warmth.

 _Fucking...bollocks…convention…_ was the refrain that ran through his head. Harry could not even find consolation in the fact that he was able to keep the bizarre mantra to an internal buzz instead of muttering under his breath. This whole plan was going to hell and it was going to take more than just Harry's efforts to correct the course.

Mutely, the trio gathered their belongings and traveled through the Floo to the Ministry where they would be taking a direct Portkey to Hertfordshire. The journey to the Department of Magical Transportation was mostly quiet, Harry giving up on trying to engage the two men in small talk early on in their trek. Finally, he resigned himself to walking in silence, occasionally catching Draco's eye and smiling sadly.

Ron instinctively took the lead once they entered the department, visibly more at ease now that he was on his home turf.

"The Portkey Office will be over here," he stated authoritatively, shattering the implicit "no talking" rule.

Harry and Draco trailed behind him, stepping gingerly through the division which was crowded with stacked crates and shelves of everyday items that would eventually become Portkeys, but walking close enough to one another that the backs of their hands brushed. Draco tapped Harry's knuckles to get his attention and the dark head swiveled to meet Draco's face. His concern was written quite plainly on his countenance and Harry dreaded the impending inquisition.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked in a barely audible whisper.

"Nothing." Harry didn't want to have this conversation. Not here. And he definitely didn't want to admit that he had maybe, _potentially_ , been wrong about trying to force Draco and Ron to get on.

Draco merely gave him a severe look that clearly called him a liar.

An exhalation of air rushed through his nose violently. "I just…dunno what I was thinking. The three of us traveling together. Trying to go to a Quidditch convention for fuck's sake, like we're all old chums." He was a bit breathless and overcome with the need to pout but succeeded in keeping his lower lip firmly in place. Mostly.

The expression Draco wore flitted between increased disquiet and – was that guilt? Harry didn't have the opportunity to question what he saw because they were soon crossing the threshold of the Portkey Office. In just a few moments they would be hurtling across space to land at the convention.

Chewing on his lower lip with mild apprehension, Harry edged around the other men, following the queue that read "Hertfordshire" until he could place a hand on the monstrosity of a 1980's mobile phone that would serve as their transportation. Ron and Draco joined him soon thereafter and Ron began counting down as the phone heated up and began to pulse with white light.

"All set?" Ron called, placing a few fingers on the phone while Draco positioned his grip closer to Harry's fingers. The blond was staring down at the object beneath his fingers with incomprehension and a matching furrowed brow.

"Five…four…three…two…"

By some unspoken signal, both Harry and Draco looked up into each other's eyes. Rather without his permission, he shot Draco a quasi-beseeching expression right before his vision swirled with color and the Portkey Office winked out around them.

* * *

Coming down from the disorientation following Portkey travel, Harry, Draco, and Ron had wound up in deserted field about five-hundred yards from the Blue Buck Inn. The Hertfordshire countryside was simply stunning during the summer months. Warm rays of sun reached down to them through the clear sky, illuminating the vivid green grass beneath their feet. The inn itself was situated between two lakes on either side of the massive building, which really resembled more of a manor than a run of the mill lodging. White stone made up the central portion of the edifice, while the upper floors and side wings were composed of a beautiful red brick. Winding up to the front doors was a rustic granite staircase that branched off into covered verandahs that seemingly stretched the length of the facility and boasted a magnificent display of bougainvillea and hyacinths.

"Wow," Harry murmured as they approached the inn. He didn't think he had ever seen such a modestly elegant establishment. It looked like something out of one of those Muggle real estate shows that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia fancied.

Ron too was staring ahead gape-mouthed, but Draco just tutted quietly beside him, muttering something about catching flies and commoners. Harry elbowed him and was met with a sheepish grin that had absolutely no business being on a Malfoy's face, he was certain.

"Play nice," he growled.

"I'm always nice," Draco smirked back, a light coming into his eyes.

"What are you two whispering about over there?" Ron asked, finally coming to his senses.

"Nothing," they replied in unison. Ron's eyes narrowed with suspicion, but he kept his mouth closed until they reached the entrance to the inn.

Beyond thick mahogany double doors the inside of the Blue Buck was just as breath-taking as the grounds. The reception area was decorated in muted taupes and browns, reminding Harry uncannily of the interior of Malfoy Manor. Two rows of hanging white lights swung in a semi-circle above them like an unfinished ghostly chandelier.

Behind the front desk, a woman sat, flicking through a magazine absently, unaware of their presence.

"You go on," Harry prompted, prodding Ron gently. "The reservations are under your name, yeah?"

"Yeah, they are." Ron's eyes reflected a sense of pride and importance before he strode to the receptionist to check in. Harry hung back near the entrance with Draco.

"I told you before that I thought this was a rubbish idea," Draco hissed from his side, seamlessly picking up their conversation from the Portkey Office.

Harry's heart panged in his chest. This was supposed to be a fun trip. He didn't want to chastise Draco or Ron for not being the best of friends. It wasn't their fault – the animosity was ingrained at this point. But he couldn't imagine himself turning a blind eye to the tension either.

"Don't you think I know that?" he snapped. "This is such shit. I just wish that you and Ron could at least _pretend_ to get along," Harry fumed, watching Ron gesticulate wildly at the receptionist instead of Draco's steady gaze. He knew he was bitching, but he couldn't help it. It was maddening being around two people that he cared for who can't stand the sight of one another.

There was a beat of silence and then a deep composing breath from Draco. "Is that what you really want?"

"Yes." Harry's voice was now entering whining territory. "It tears me up seeing you two so disengaged. Don't you want to see me have a good time?"

Ok, so that was a little manipulative, but desperate times…

Draco huffed, but wore a pained expression Harry hadn't seen much of, if at all.

"You're such a sap Potter," Draco muttered, but a guilty flush was creeping up his neck.

Harry's heart lifted a little until he noticed Ron approaching them, face twisted in a weird combination of rage and embarrassment.

"What's happened?" he asked anxiously. In his mind he was automatically considering all the things that could have gone wrong. Maybe the tickets were counterfeit? Now that Harry thought about it, it did sound like an elaborate scheme George Weasley would orchestrate…

"There was a mix-up with the rooms," Ron admitted finally. "We were supposed to have a three-bedroom suite with private bathrooms and shared living space- "

"But?" Draco cut off. Harry didn't need to turn his head to know that his face was clouding over with annoyance.

For the first time that day, Ron actually looked unnerved. " _But_ , they only reserved two _regular_ rooms. And apparently the rest of the place is booked for the remainder of the convention, so there aren't any spares."

Despite Harry's dismay at the oversight, the wantonly sex-crazed part of his brain was delighted at the prospect of sharing a hotel room with Draco. Lewd thoughts, each more detailed than the last, sprinted across his mind at a rapid pace. In fact, he was so caught up in his plotting that the emotion Draco's facial features were forming nearly bypassed him.

A blaze of anger at Ron's news streaked through dark gray eyes and Draco opened his mouth in a snarl, making Harry wince. However, in the next instant, his mouth fell shut and his face turned impassive.

"Not your fault Weasley," he uttered through gritted teeth.

Both Ron and Harry whirled to face Draco in surprise. He flushed, but kept quiet.

_So you can be civil…_

Harry's gaze softened and he smiled. His first truly genuine smile since they started this mockery of a mini-vacation. _Thank you_ , his expression to Draco read. Draco on the other hand went a little red and waved a dismissive hand in Harry's direction.

"Er, thanks Malfoy. I know." Ron was truly bewildered, but Harry's heart was hammering away happily at the small, but significant concession. "So I guess you two will want to um…share?" That inquiry came with the requisite blush.

 _Yes!_ The carnal voice in his head exclaimed.

"Guess we'll have to," Harry's much more rational mouth said. He turned to gauge Draco's reaction. The blonds' expression was indecipherable.

"That's fine," he said evenly. "No need to get up in arms."

Relief flooded Ron's features at the new somewhat-courteous Draco and he began to grin slowly. "Right then. Let's get going."

The trio adhered to the receptionist's instructions and followed a side hallway to take the lift up to the 3rd floor. Pausing outside of rooms 305 and 307, Ron held out a kelly green keycard for Harry and Draco and turned to slip his into the lock of 305. "You two want to meet downstairs for lunch in about an hour? I need to firecall Mione."

"That's fine Ron. We'll meet you down there," Harry replied. Draco gave a tight nod.

"Right. See you soon." With that, he slipped into the room and they watched as the door clanged back into place behind him. Harry turned to face Draco and was met with another unreadable expression. He gave a slight smile and poked him in the ribs. "C'mon, let's check the room out."

Harry took the liberty of unlocking the door and holding it open for Draco and his parade of luggage to precede him. He'd just narrowly avoided being knocked unconscious by the last floating bag when he heard Draco's roar of indignation.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!"

Harry entered the room cautiously and peered around Draco's form. Following his line of sight, he took in the focal point of the well-appointed room. Well-appointed with the exception of the bed, that is. One bed. One singular, _tiny_ bed.

"Oh," Harry muttered. _Fantastic!_ The voice called out mischievously.

"Yes, oh. This is bloody ridiculous. We should send a Howler to the Ministry for this."

Harry placed a consoling hand on Draco's shoulder. "It's really not that bad. It's just a bed."

"Yes. _One_ bed," Draco said weakly, turning to face Harry with a worse pallor than usual.

* * *

Draco’s POV

Draco was trying not to freak out, but didn't think he was doing a very good job at it. It wasn't that he minded sharing a bed with Harry. It was just kind of a big fucking step to be completely honest. Especially considering all their dalliances had taken place in either the sitting room of Grimmauld Place or Harry's office.

"Come here," Harry called to him, grasping his fingertips and pulling him gently toward the too-fucking-small bed. Haltingly, Draco trailed behind, eyes widening in what he would never admit to be fear as they lay down upon the surprisingly comfortable bedding. He felt himself being scooped up into strong arms and was promptly maneuvered so that his head rested on Harry's chest.

"See? This isn't so bad, right?" Harry asked quietly. Draco grunted noncommittally and decided to focus on listening to the thud of Harry's heart beneath his ear instead.

"We don't have to do anything more than this," he heard him say. "You don't have to be so…hesitant."

_Say what you mean Harry. I'm not hesitant. And I'm not scared either because I know that's what you were implying._

"I'm not 'hesitant,'" he started hotly, echoing his thoughts. "I just don't want you to feel pressured. We've never been in this position before."

"Literally," Harry stated wryly. He could feel rather than see the dumb grin that was no doubt creeping along Harry's face at his joke.

"Look," Harry continued. "I think that if I'm alright with this, you can be too. And if you're really uncomfortable, then we can transfigure the couch or something."

Draco let a huff of warm breath caress Harry's clothed torso. "I imagine this will be adequate," he replied, in a haughty, but quiet voice. But his mollification was clear and he was suddenly very glad that Harry could not see the smile that was threatening to break out on his face.

An amused chuckle rang out above him, Harry obviously seeing through the thin veneer of contempt. Seconds later, he felt a finger beneath his chin, tilting his head up so that their lips were aligned.

"I imagine this will be _more_ than adequate," Harry whispered before brushing his mouth against Draco's to initiate their first kiss of the morning. Their lips met for several luxurious minutes, Draco's fingers coming up to thread through Harry's mane and trail down the pulse point along his neck. The gesture was so sweet and intimate that Draco had to swallow hard to stop himself from saying something soppy. Luckily Harry beat him to it.

The dark head pulled away from the kiss and stroked Draco's cheek tenderly.

"What is it?" he asked, voice slightly raspy. He just _knew_ that his eyes were glazed over as well.

"Thank you."

Draco stared into Harry's earnest face for much longer than was probably considered polite. Finding his voice, he replied. "Whatever for?"

Harry laughed again, most likely at both his wording and the expression he wore.

"For trying." He watched with interest as Harry's eyes deepened from their usual emerald shade to something resembling more of a hunter green.

The eyes loomed closer and Draco was drowning in their depths until they closed and Harry pressed small soft kisses over his mouth, chin, and jaw. When he leaned into the touch, one hand crept down his side, fingers teasing at the waistband of his trousers, the other curling around his lower back. Harry's leg hooked around Draco's left and tugged him so that he was more or less swathed on top of the brunet.

Hell, if he had known that this was all it took to get this kind of attention from Harry, he would have learned how to tolerate the Weasel years ago.

Growing more comfortable in their position, Draco shifted so that his forearms rested in the pillows on either side of Harry's head and their groins were lined up, but not touching. He didn't want to give in too soon after all.

Draco looked down into the strikingly open and expressive face. Without even trying, he could pinpoint the lust, pride, and comfort that resided there. He allowed himself a little sigh and then brought his hips down onto Harry's. A surprised, but obviously pleased gasp slipped from Harry's mouth and wrapped around Draco like an electric blanket. He grew especially warm where their matching erections ground against each other. Both of their breathing was becoming shallower as Draco experimentally rocked his pelvis into Harry's at a slow firm pace. The green eyes fluttered shut upon contact as pink lips fell open to release a sensuous moan.

_I could get used to this._

Draco caught Harry's mouth in another kiss, this one more impassioned than the last, fueled by the fingers that were tangling in his hair and the sensation of Harry's chest heaving for breath below him. As Harry slowly met each of Draco's thrusts the room around them dimmed and he felt the tightening in his pants increase to an almost painful level. He didn't know how far they were going to go, but he had to release some of this tension somehow.

An idea bloomed in his head and he moved from Harry's lips, kissing his way to Harry's ear and dragged his tongue along the skin behind it. Ragged breathing sounded in his ears and Harry tightened his fingers, scraping down from Draco's scalp, along his back, and settling around his waist.

"Mm, I think someone likes that," Draco teased before pulling back slightly to catch Harry's expression.

"Fuck," came the raspy reply, hips still undulating beneath his own. "Bit of a – ah – weak spot, I suppose," he finished as Draco repeated the action.

"Duly noted," Draco smirked, more so taking note of the dazed look in Harry's eyes than anything else. Sufficiently inspired, and now hard beyond belief, Draco moved his attentions down the side of Harry's neck and sucked on his collarbone, teasing, while his fingers crept under the hem of his t-shirt.

"I think this should come off, don't you?" Draco said while skating his hands up and down the warm skin of Harry's sides and getting a quick nod in return. He sat back on his thighs, allowing Harry to lift up slightly and reach his hands back to dispose of his shirt.

"Perfect." Draco could feel the feral expression taking over his features, but there was nothing for it. Seeing all this gorgeous, lightly tanned skin was doing something to him. Making him want Harry in the worst way possible. And he could only hope that Harry would let him take what he so desperately wanted.

"You know you look like some sort of…man-eater, don't you?" Harry said with a blush, but was not deterred from tugging at the bottom of Draco's shirt.

Draco quickly removed the article of clothing. "I prefer to be likened to a wolf, but I'll take that."

Leaning back down to press skin against skin ignited a wildfire in the pit of Draco's stomach. "And I think I'll take you too."

Harry's eyes widened at the implication. "Draco, I- "

 _Shit._ The last thing he wanted to do was scare the prat.

Quickly, he shook his head and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Harry's mouth. "Not like that, you twit. Calm down," he said, taking great care to make his voice playful and not callous.

"You were the one freaked about a bed," Harry muttered darkly, but looked vaguely relieved.

Draco laughed and kissed him again. "I just meant that I'll take you. As in, I choose you, I suppose."

Comprehension dawned in Harry's eyes and soon a small smile was playing at the corners of his mouth. "You _choose_ me?"

 _Ok, now is not the time to blush_ , he told himself. The words were already out of his mouth before he realized how mushy they sounded.

He cleared his throat in what he hoped was a sophisticated manner, but probably came out more like he was ill.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. You allowed me to get to know you better and I, er, chose to take you up on the offer."

"Well who knew Draco Malfoy was a closet romantic?" Harry grinned and ran a hand down Draco's bare chest.

Draco huffed exasperatedly and flopped down on his back next to Harry, arousal definitely fading at the accusation. "Thanks for killing my bloody erection," he griped.

"Oh, don't be that way," Harry still wore a smile as he propped himself up on an elbow and traced his fingers in a looping pattern over Draco's pectorals, down, around, down, and up. "Are you really saying that you don't still want this?"

With that, Harry sunk his teeth into the skin of Draco's neck, drawing a surprised, gratifying, and rather loud moan from his lips.

"Harry? And…Malfoy? You two ready?" a voice called from the hall followed by a sharp rap on the door.

Draco watched as Harry's face fell and he drew a tremulous hand through his hair. Taking no heed to the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt, Harry threw his legs over the side of the bed and strode over to the door. Draco had just managed to pull himself into a seated position when the door swung open and Ron took in the sight of Harry's bare chest with confusion and then horror as he glanced at the bed and saw Draco in a similar state.

Harry, of course, did not seem to be affected one way or another. "I thought we were going to meet downstairs mate?" And though his voice was ridiculously calm, there was a glint to the green eyes that hinted at annoyance.

Draco fought the urge to pull the sheet up to his chest, but refused to look like a virginal maiden. At least in front of Weasley.

"I – we were. Just thought it might be nice if we all went down together. You know, male bonding and all that."

The urge to roll his eyes was too great, and it wasn't like Harry could see what he was doing on the bed anyway. _Male bonding…what a load of crap. You just didn't want Harry and I to spend too much time together, you great sodding…rutabaga._

It wasn't his best insult by far, but he was frustrated. Sexually and otherwise.

Harry however, seemed to buy the tripe dripping from his friends mouth. His eyes softened and he nodded. "Alright." Draco abruptly had his shirt thrown at him and he hurried to dress himself and thanked Merlin that his hard-on had already been flagging. There was an extremely long list of things he never wanted Weasley to see, and his engorged cock was at the very top of that list.

Once everyone was decent, they walked to the lift, this time with a comfortable, or as comfortable as it was going to get, stream of chatter. Several times the Weasel tried to draw him into the conversation he was holding with Harry, but as Draco wasn't really listening, it was hard to follow the thread of the discussion. He settled for interested nods and a sequence of "Oh really?" that seemed to satisfy him. And although Draco was putting a miniscule amount of effort into this charade, each time he responded in a polite manner, Harry would throw him a brief, but brilliant smile. And maybe, just maybe, that made this whole thing worth it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drama, secrets, and romance. This chapter's got it all. It also has explicit sexual content, so cover your eyes if you need to.

Draco’s POV

 “What do you suppose everyone’s doing at home?” Harry asked.

A little after mid-day, Draco, Harry, and Ron were finishing up their lunch at the ground floor cafeteria of the Blue Buck Inn. Conversation between the three, while not as strained as before, was still…lacking. Harry, Merlin bless him, was still trying to make sure that everyone felt included. And though Draco was putting in a touch more effort than he had before, he really wasn’t lifting a finger.

“Not sure, but Scorpius was none too pleased that we jetted off to Hertfordshire without him. Which reminds me, I promised him we’d all do something together when we got back,” he admitted.

From the corner of his eye, Draco could see Ron raise an eyebrow. “All meaning, myself, Harry, and Scorpius, Weasley. Contain yourself.”

The brow fell back into place, but a flush of embarrassment spread over the redheads face. Draco thought he heard him mutter “git” under his breath, but he chose to ignore it.

Harry wore a reproachful  expression when he looked at Draco. “I’d love for us to do something. Did you have anything special in mind?” He fiddled with the leftover crusts from his sandwich while he waited for Draco to respond.

“Not yet,” he admitted, “but I’m thinking about it.”

“How old is your son Malfoy?” Weasley asked.

Draco blinked at him, surprised by the obscenely normal question.

_He’s really taking this bonding thing seriously, isn’t he? Of course, he probably has to be nice to me. Or face the wrath of that scary girlfriend of his._

“He’s seven.”

Weasley nodded without looking up from his now-empty plate. “How’s he doing in camp?”

Draco’s left eyebrow shot up of its own accord. “Harry’s probably the best one to talk to about that.” He exulted in the fact that he left off “you moron” from the end of that sentence.

“Right.” Ron turned slightly to face Harry, who had been watching the exchange with rivaling looks of amusement and astonishment.

“He’s doing great Ron. One of the best flyers in his group. Really good kid too, you would like him.” Smiling green eyes turned to look into Draco’s and he couldn’t help grinning back. He liked hearing Harry praise his son, even if it was just to the Weasel.

Ron sputtered a little, but recovered quickly. “Course I would, if you like him Harry.”

Draco eyed him suspiciously, searching for a hidden undertone in his words, but could find none.

“Do you and Granger have children Weasley?” Draco asked solicitously. He didn’t think he recalled Harry ever talking about red-headed, large-toothed offspring, but he could be wrong.

“Me and Mione? Nah. We’re still young, you know? Other things to accomplish first before we’re saddled down and turned into sad sacks. God, how nutters would you have to be to have a kid at this age?”

Draco gritted his teeth and looked to Harry for – what? Patience? Harry looked back at him with a pained expression.

“Ron,” Harry started.

Ron’s eyes flew open as he realized the implication of his words. “Oh shite! No offense Malfoy. I was just-”

“Don’t worry about it Weasley. I wouldn’t expect you to understand the importance of continuing a prestigious line and producing an heir.”

How dare he insinuate that Draco was mad for having Scorpius? Sure, he’d had him young, but he loved his son and wouldn’t trade him for anything.

Harry, catching his murderous expression, took his hand from across the table, warmth from his fingers sinking into his skin. “I don’t think he meant anything by it Draco.”

Draco took a deep breath and tried to relax under Harry’s comforting touch.

“I didn’t. I’m,” Ron coughed, “sorry.”

Draco waved him off with his free hand. “Isn’t it about time to get going?” he asked in lieu of acknowledgment of Ron’s apology.

Harry squeezed his fingers once more before letting go. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

* * *

That years Annual Quidditch Convention was being held at the Omnidome, a hidden wizarding facility with security parameters in place similar to the World Cup. Powerful Notice-Me-Not charms surrounded the massive facility, silently repelling any Muggle that came within 200 yards of the complex. Inside, the expansive building housed press conference rooms, lecture halls, Quidditch simulation rooms and even a lounge for thirsty or hungry participants.

Standing at the front entrance, and trying not to get trampled by the hoards of people passing in and out of the doors, the men took in their surroundings and then tried to figure out where to begin.

Draco watched as Harry cleared his throat and began speaking to the floor, though he assumed the words were meant for Weasley. “Where should we go first?”

A blond eyebrow lifted in question and Draco reluctantly flicked his eyes back over to the Weasel’s face. He seemed to be in great concentration.

 _Don’t think too deeply_ , Draco thought with amusement. _We wouldn’t want that abnormally empty head to explode with frustration._

When long moments had passed and Weasley still hadn’t commented, Draco quickly reviewed the handout that outlined various schedules and went with the first corresponding event his eyes landed on.

“May I suggest we begin by visiting the team booths over there? They’re having meet and greet sessions until 3:30.” Draco pointed a finger to the far side of the convention hall where dozens of booths representing the European teams and decorated in their appropriate team colors lined an entire wall.

Ron bristled, followed Draco’s line of sight and then nodded like a marionette on a string. Harry said, “Well come on then,” and then began walking across the hall, with the Weasel close on his heels. Draco hung back and walked a few paces behind them. He heard Ron whisper to Harry, “Merlin, I thought we were getting on and now he’s just being a git. Couldn’t even let me finish my bloody train of thought, could he? What’s his problem?”

Harry’s tone was warning and it made Draco’s heart soar that he wasn’t the one being reprimanded. “For starters, he’s probably still upset about the kids remark.”

Weasley huffed again. “Fine. Whatever you say.”

They continued the rest of the journey to the team booths and then mutually agreed it would be best if they spread out on their own and met up later. Except for the fact that Draco didn’t want to split up. Well, he wanted to split up from the Weasel. But not from Harry.

As if reading his thoughts, Harry ‘accidentally’ brushed up against Draco while he was admiring sports memorabilia at the Holyhead Harpies table. The skin of Draco’s forearm where Harry had touched him tingled wickedly. “Excuse me, didn’t see you there,” Harry said with a small grin, never turning his head away from the table.

A mischievous grin attached itself to Draco’s face and he soon found himself wanting to play more of this game. Draco went to move behind Harry as though he were going to pass by the booth altogether, but instead grazed his hand along the small of Harry’s back, dropping his fingers down to the smooth crease of Harry’s ass for nanoseconds and then away again.

The small gasp he elicited from Harry was worth it. Draco turned round to face Harry again, who was looking at him with wide shocked eyes. Draco raised an eyebrow in question, feigning innocence so very to the tee that the devil himself would have been fooled.

“Is something wrong?” Draco asked. “You look a little feverish.”

Harry seemed to bite back his first response and decided on something else in the end. “Don’t play these games in the open unless you can back them up when we get up to the hotel room.” His statement was matter of fact, eyes challenging.

Draco leaned into Harry’s form, just a touch more than could be considered appropriate in company. “I _always_ back it up Potter,” he responded. The words rolled off his tongue and hung over Harry in a haze of arousal. His eyes went dark and for long moments Draco seriously considered saying ‘fuck it’ and dragging Harry back to the hotel room, Quidditch Convention be damned. Harry was the one who regained his composure first though.

Draco watched him take several deep steadying breaths. “I don’t doubt that. And when we get back to the room, I want you to show me just how much you can back it up.”

A breath that very nearly sounded like a moan passed though Draco’s lips without his permission. Harry, content that he’d had the final word, sauntered away in search of Ron.

_Bloody hell. When did Potter get seductive?_

* * *

Harry’s POV

If nothing else, this trip was teaching Harry to be careful what he wished for. All day long he’d wanted Ron and Draco to put aside their differences for a while so that they could enjoy themselves and get sucked into Quidditch-mania. And while he was undoubtedly grateful that Ron had stepped up and was being more cordial, he couldn’t bloody get rid of the man for two seconds.

Damn that Ron. And sodding Hermione too.

Turned out that during Ron’s firecall with his girlfriend, she had encouraged him to be more polite and to make more of an effort for Harry’s sake. She was the one who got him started on all this male bonding rubbish. If they'd just left things alone maybe he'd be back in bed with Draco by now, sucking and biting on his neck, maybe sliding a hand down his taut chest and tangling his fingers in that blond hair surrounding his rock hard...  
  
“Harry? Mate? Are you listening?"

“Sorry Ron. What were you saying?” Harry inquired sheepishly.

Ron rolled his eyes in annoyance. “I was asking if you think the Cannons have a chance at the Cup this year. Head Coach Branwen seems to be pretty optimistic.”

Harry placed a placating hand on Ron’s shoulder before replying. “I don’t think they have a chance. Even with that new Beater on board. They still play every game like it’s just a practice run.”

Shaking his head vehemently, Ron began ticking off reasons why the team had improved over the past several years and Harry couldn’t help letting his mind and eyes wander back to Draco. His green eyes flitted over the crowd searching for and finding a spot of bright blond hair over near the Wasps table. Draco was leaned over the table, thoroughly examining a new Snitch prototype that one of the players was endorsing and his gray eyes sparkled as he chatted animatedly. Feeling his heart swell, Harry smiled at his boyfriend and then turned his attention, at least in appearance, back to Ron.

It was still a little shocking to Harry how well their relationship was going. Draco was surprisingly funny, smart, and though the blond would be loathe to ever admit it, incredibly kind under that stoic façade. That much was apparent when watching him interact with Scorpius. The small boy was without a doubt the biggest sign that Draco had turned his life around. Even at a little over three weeks into the madness of dating Draco Malfoy, he was exhilarated at the prospect at coming along for the journey.

While he slowly began filtering Ron’s side of the conversation back into his main stream of consciousness, he noticed a heavy-set balding man approaching the table with an incredulous expression on his face. He seemed to be squinting at Harry as he drew nearer, and Harry felt a knee-jerk flutter of anxiety jolt along his stomach.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked, catching Harry’s changing expression and turning around in curiosity.

Before he could respond, the man had reached the table and had a hand out for Harry to shake.

“I thought it was you,” the man said with a wheeze, as though the trip across the hall had been too much physical exertion for him. “Merlin’s beard, Harry Potter. Never thought I’d meet you.”

Harry shook the man’s hand carefully and analyzed his face for recognition. There was none.

“Pleasure. Excuse me if this is rude but, do I know you?” Harry’s eyes were bouncing back and forth between the stranger and Ron frantically.

“My apologies, my name in Unidus Harding. I’m a supplier for Quality Quidditch in Diagon Alley and an admirer of yours. Though I suppose most people are,” Harding chuckled heartily while Harry and Ron looked on with varying degrees of confusion and mild embarrassment.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, but we were just heading…over there,” Harry pointed hastily to a spot at the far corner of the room and smiled uncomfortably. Merlin, he hated this kind of attention.

“Right right, I won’t keep you. Just wanted to say hello and shake hands with the man who defeated You-Know-Who. Besides, I see someone else I need to speak with. Again, it’s been a pleasure.” With a short bow, the man walked over to a vendor selling team t-shirts and began what seemed to be an impromptu business transaction.

“You attract the weirdest fans Harry,” Ron said, shaking his head at Harding over Harry’s shoulder.

“Don’t I know it.” Harry sighed. “C’mon, let’s go find Draco.”

* * *

Draco’s POV

“Harry, are you going to leave that prat’s side for five minutes and spend time with your best friend, or are you two just going to go back to the hotel to shag?” Ron thundered.

_I vote for the second option._

They’d been at the convention for nearly two hours, and though both he and Harry knew exactly what was going to happen when they returned to their hotel room, they couldn’t help standing close to each other at each booth, brushing their hands together and giving one another lingering smoldering looks.

“Ron, we’re all spending time together, remember? I’m not just going to ditch Draco.” Again, Draco’s heart lifted high into his chest, wanting to find its way out of his body and into Harry’s waiting palm.

_That’s right Weasel. He’s not going to ditch me, despite your likely attempts to make him do so._

“I just don’t understand why you have to look at each other like you’re the only ones in the room,” he said sulkily.

“Jealous Weasley?” Draco couldn’t help it. The petulant expression on the red-heads face was too good to pass up.

A fire lit in Ron’s eyes and he opened his mouth to retort. Harry held up a hand for silence. He turned to Draco. “Love, stop it.”

Draco frowned, torn. He loved Harry’s casual use of endearments, but didn’t like Harry taking away his fun at teasing the Weasel.

“Alright. I’ll behave. Why don’t you go pick something up for Scorpius while Weasley and I spend some quality time together?”

Harry gaped at him. “Really? Quality time? And I thought you were going to get some things for Scor?” Ron looked equally thunderstruck.

“Yes, really. And I will be getting him a few items, but I’m sure he’d like to have something from you as well.”

The brunet still looked skeptical. “If you’re sure. Try not to kill each other while I’m gone.” He gave a pointed look to both of them before walking away.

Silence ensued as Draco looked at Harry’s retreating form and then Ron’s suspicious expression.

“What are you playing at Malfoy?”

Draco sighed. “It’s obvious that Harry doesn’t like it when we bicker. So I figured we’d give him some time to himself while we become better acquainted.”

Ron looked queasy. “ _Or_ , we could do some things separately and then meet back up when Harry returns. It’ll take him forever; he’s terrible at picking out gifts.”

The corner of Draco’s mouth lifted into a small grin. He looked at Ron appraisingly. “Clever Weasley. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’d have made a fair Slytherin.”

This time Ron smiled. “I wouldn’t use ‘fair’ and ‘Slytherin’ in the same sentence, but yes, I do have my rare moments of cleverness.”

Draco bit back a comment about just how rare those occurrences were and nodded agreeably. “Meet back here in about twenty minutes?”

“Alright.” Ron gave a shadow of a grin and headed in the direction of a raised dais where a young wizard was giving a demonstration of the new Typhoon 640 broom. Relieved to have some peace again, Draco wandered toward a lecture on broom craftsmanship and lost himself in the enthusiastic musings of a third-generation broom-maker.

He was so lost in fact that he jumped when he felt a meaty hand clap him on the shoulder.

“What the fuck are you doing here among decent people Death Eater?”

Draco paled and swallowed, but gripped his wand discreetly before turning around. He was face to face with a portly, round-faced bald man with a menacing expression.

“Thought I took care of you in Diagon Alley that day. Did you come back for more?” The fingers on his shoulder began to dig in painfully. Draco didn’t want to make a scene by pulling his wand out, because the man could easily turn the situation around to look like his fault, but he also knew he wasn’t going to back down.

“No one’s causing any trouble, so why don’t you back off?” Draco said evenly.

The man’s face contorted with anger at Draco’s calm tone. “I don’t think I will,” he spat. “Maybe I should go get Harry Potter. He’s here you know, and he would take care of you good. Or better yet, maybe _I’ll_ just curse you and take the accolades for myself.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea Harding,” a voice said from behind Draco’s assailant.

Harding looked over his shoulder and Draco could see Ron with his wand out. It was held low as to not call attention to himself, but the tip was digging into Harding’s back.

“You’re Harry Potter’s friend. You should go get him, then we can string this Death Eater up properly.”

Ron never took his eyes from Harding’s face. “Like I said, I don’t think that would be a good idea. So why don’t you get the hell out of here before something bad happens.”

A look of righteous indignation crossed over the man’s features and, letting go of Draco, he turned fully, Ron’s wand now in his belly. “You can’t possibly be sticking up for him. He’s murdered people, he has!” His voice grew a little louder causing the lecturer to falter slightly in his speech.

Following Ron’s lead, he discreetly placed his wand in the small of Harding’s back. He performed a non-verbal spell that would heat the tip, just to accompany his next words.

“I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life,” Draco began, whispering in a dangerous voice into Harding’s ear. “And I’ve seen a lot of horrible things happen to people as the result of my choices. Do you really want to be a part of that list?”

Harding looked back and forth between Draco and the menacing expression on Ron’s face and quickly extricated himself from between the two. He looked at them murderously, but his expression carried just a bit of fear before he made his way hastily to the exit.

Draco and Ron kept their wands out for several long moments and then turned toward each other.

After an uncomfortable moment, Draco spoke. “You know, I’m getting quite tired of you Gryffindors coming to my rescue.”

Ron shook his head. “You know, most people say thank you,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “How do you know that nutter anyway?”

“We got into an altercation about a month ago,” he muttered, not wanting to go into details. “How do you know his name?”

“He introduced himself to Harry a little while ago. I thought there was something off about him.” Ron considered.

_Merlin. Harry._

“Listen, Weasley. I appreciate you providing back up on that one, but can you keep this between us?”

Ron looked at him, puzzled. “But you didn’t do anything wrong. Harry would be livid if he found out how that bloke treated you.”

“And that’s exactly why I don’t want to mention it to him. Look, I just don’t want to worry him, alright? He was really upset the last time something like this happened and it’s just not worth it.”

A red head bobbed in understanding. “Ok. I won’t say anything. But can I just make a suggestion?”

Draco placed his wand back in his pocket and folded his arms. “Alright.”

Ron chewed on his lower lip. “You should maybe fill him in on these things one day. I know you don’t want to worry him, but weird as it sounds, he likes to know that sort of thing. Sends him into that protective guardian mode. And I’m sure he’d be thrilled to take extra care of you.”

_Wow, that was…shockingly coherent._

Of course, part of him knew those things about Harry already, but knowing that his boyfriends best friend was concerned about _both_ of them was – well, it made Draco feel good.

“I didn’t know you could be that articulate Weasley,” he joked to lighten the mood.

“Like I said before, it’s been known to happen.” A genuine smile crossed their faces as a third party approached.

“I didn’t think you two would really be able to spend that much time together. Without resorting to bodily harm, that is,” Harry chortled.

“Oh ye of little faith Harry,” Draco said with a grin in Ron’s direction.

Harry’s eyebrows lifted in amusement. “Ok. Not sure what happened here,” he waved his bag-filled hands between the two of them, “but I’m glad it did.”

“Don’t even worry about it mate. Besides, I’m bloody knackered. Want to head back to the rooms for a while?”

Harry looked to Draco who nodded in agreement.

“Ok. Maybe we’ll meet up for drinks later.”

* * *

Harry’s POV

 “I thought you were tired,” Draco said after Harry had pushed him against the wall of the hotel room and began sucking on his neck heatedly.

“Not too tired to do this,” Harry murmured against Draco’s skin.

Draco’s fingers scrabbled along Harry’s back. “Mmm, I’m glad.”

Harry chuckled and wasted no time in divesting Draco of his shirt and trousers and tossing him in the direction of the bed. He stripped until he too was only in his boxers and threw himself on top of Draco’s body, whimpering at the feeling of bare flesh. Shit, they’d only been back in the room for a few minutes and they were both already rock hard.

“Been wanting to do this all day,” he admitted, shamelessly rutting against Draco’s groin in an echo of their actions from earlier.

“Same here,” Draco gasped, arching into the thrusts. “Your fault for looking at me the way you do.”

“How do I look at you?” Harry asked, scraping his fingers down Draco’s chest and tugging at his nipples.

Draco groaned before he could seem to find the words. “Like you’re undressing me with your eyes.”

“That’s because you’re so fucking sexy.” Harry traced his finger along the waistband of Draco’s boxers and looked at him questioningly, pausing in their grinding the time being.

Gray eyes stared back at him with mixed emotions. “What do you want to do?” he asked finally.

Harry licked his lips nervously. “You.”

Draco’s eyes widened and he blinked at Harry for several moments. Then a flush spread down his face and neck. “Are you certain? You know we don’t have to rush into anything. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know that. I just want you.” It was true. Harry spent the majority of the time at the convention thinking about Draco and what they would get up to when they returned to the room. Turns out that the majority of those thoughts led to sex. He desperately wanted to know what it was like to feel the heat of Draco’s body surrounding his cock, thrusting, and sweating.

“Alright,” Draco said quietly. “As long as you’re sure. And if at any time you get uncomfortable, just let me know and we’ll stop.”

Harry smiled at his boyfriend  before dropping a kiss on his lips. “I know. Thank you. But you’re the one that’ll be getting fucked,” he said, a wicked gleam entering his eyes.

“Then you’ll need to take these off.” Draco placed Harry’s hands back on the waistband of his boxers and pushed them down a bit.

Harry quickly removed Draco’s boxers, tossing them over the edge of the bed, and took in the sight of Draco’s completely nude form. His erection was like the crowning glory, standing at attention and glistening with pre-come. Draco’s normally porcelain skin was tinged a light pink, giving him a healthy glow.

_So fucking beautiful._

“Harry?” Draco called, bringing him back to the situation at hand. “I want you naked too.”

He closed his eyes as Draco slowly slipped his hands under Harry’s teal boxer-briefs and massaged his ass-cheeks before peeling the fabric from his body. They spent several moments with Harry draped over Draco, sliding skin on skin and exchanging kisses. Finally the ache in Harry’s cock became too much and he sat back on his legs.

He watched as Draco swallowed audibly and ran a hand through a mess of blond hair while staring at Harry’s groin. An automatic flush settled over the brunet’s skin.

“What?” Harry asked warily. He didn’t think he looked bad. He had even spent a little time grooming his pubic hair just so that it didn’t look too unruly. Not that he would be admitting that any time soon. Or ever.

“Harry,” he breathed, eyes never wavering from the sight of his cock. “You’re fucking huge.” Draco sounded slightly hysterical.

“You’ve seen it before.”

“I know. But I’ve never seen it right before it’s going to be shoved into my ass.”

Harry frowned. He had never considered himself to be that large. Albeit, he didn’t have much to compare it to. He had never seen a bloke naked before, outside of Draco and the Quidditch locker rooms. And back then everyone was too tired and embarrassed to do anything more than suds up quickly and leave, forget about visually measuring up someone’s prick.

“Do you think so?” Harry asked shyly. He was completely self-conscious, but there was definitely a part of him that was enjoying the way Draco was eying him so unabashedly.

“Merlin Potter, you’re going to rip me in half,” he said in jest, but Harry could hear a small bit of fear in that statement. Harry was sure that Draco was caught off guard, as he had slipped back into calling him by his surname again.

Harry bit his lip. He didn’t want Draco to be scared during their first time. Harry was frightened enough for the both of them.

“Hey,” he said, reaching a hand out to caress Draco’s creamy thigh. “You can top if you want.” Even though Harry’s brain was screaming at him that that wasn’t a great idea yet, he felt obligated to give Draco an out. After all, he had been so accommodating and patient up to this point. He deserved it.

Draco looked like he was thinking about it for a second and then vanished the thought from his mind like an apparition. “No. I mean, not this time. I want to bottom for you,” he said cheekily.

Green eyes grew a little wider at his words. “Ok.” It came out in a whisper.

Taking a heaving breath, Harry sat up so that Draco was sat on his lap. He placed slow kisses along his neck and collarbone, pulling throaty groans from the blond. His traced his hand up and down Draco’s sides, relishing in the feel of such unbelievably soft and velvety skin beneath his fingers. Draco’s hipbones were sharp, but welcome under Harry’s touch and he bit back a small moan when his fingertips tangled in the blond mass of curls at his groin. Draco whimpered a little then, head thrown back in ecstasy under Harry’s ministrations at his throat.

Moving his legs so that he was sitting cross-legged, he nudged Draco’s legs further apart so that the blond was sitting back on his haunches on Harry’s lap. He paused a moment to drink in the sight of Draco’s lean lithe body naked and glorious on top of him. It was time to make some moves. Hardly daring to breathe, Harry followed the path of Draco’s body from his groin down to his ass. One wandering finger decided to rebel against all the rest and tease the crease of his ass.

Draco’s head jerked back into an upright position. “Harry,” he whispered.

Harry lifted hooded eyes up to meet Draco’s gaze. “What is it love?”

 _Who the hell said that?_ Since Draco’s mouth was firmly shut, he guessed he had. He hadn’t felt the words slip from his lips and he definitely didn’t recognize his voice. It was smooth and rough at the same time, like velvet being dragged over gravel.

Draco’s tongue darted out to lick his lips quickly. He exhaled harshly before speaking. “We’re um, going to need some lube if that’s what you plan on doing.”

“Right,” Harry muttered. He summoned a bottle from the side table and flipped open the cap with fumbling fingers. After spreading a liberal amount of the viscous substance on his fingertips, he returned back to Draco’s heat, placing a probing finger at his entrance. Draco’s lips were pressed between his teeth in anticipation. Harry placed a steadying hand on Draco’s waist and then boldly pressed the finger inside, just up to the first knuckle. He was amazed that such a tiny orifice could carry so much heat. Harry could only imagine what it would feel like when his cock was surrounded by that tight inferno. He had to close his eyes against the waves of pleasure that wracked his body at the fantasy. He was going to wind up coming right now if he wasn’t careful.

Draco’s shoulders slumped in contentment and he laid his head down to rest in the crook of Harry’s neck. “Deeper,” he murmured. Harry couldn’t help but oblige. Slowly he slid the finger further up Draco’s canal, until his entire finger was engulfed in white heat.

“Now go in and out slowly,” Draco whispered, his hands moving to rest on Harry’s shoulders for balance. The brunet did what he was told each time Draco gave him another instruction, from ‘another finger,’ to ‘now stretch me out.’

More quickly than he would have expected, Harry had pressed three fingers into Draco’s entrance and was now thrusting in and out of him at a moderate pace. The heavy weight of Draco’s cock bounced on Harry’s forearm with the motions, the small sound of skin on skin nearly causing Harry to lose focus. He was going to need to drive Draco into the mattress soon and he hoped the blond was ready.

“Draco?” Harry asked, slowing his fingers the slightest bit.

“Hm?” he asked, voice muffled against Harry’s shoulder.

“Can I -” he purposely let the sentence trail off, because no matter how hot and filthy he was able to talk in his mind, the words never sounded the same by the time they reached his lips. Draco dragged his lips and tongue along Harry’s neck and shoulder in response. “Please do.”

Harry wasn’t shaking. Absolutely not. There were just mild tremors running under the inn as the result of some small earthquake or…something. It was probably worrying all the convention guests and they were looking at their souvenirs hoping nothing would break before the aftershocks were over. Yes, he was sure that was it. Except that he was the only one shaking. Draco was perfectly still, lying on his back, looking up at Harry with clear gray eyes.

Draco seemed to read the fear. “You won’t break me.”

Harry looked at him with a disbelieving expression.  “Alright, I might not be able to sit properly for a day or so, but that’s a good kind of broken,” he said with a genuine smile.

Harry nodded tersely. Breathing slowly, unconsciously trying to slow his heart rate and nerves, he reached for the bottle of lube again and drizzled a large amount on his cock. He smeared the coating along his shaft, groaning quietly at the feel of his fingers on the heated skin.

“Let me.” Harry looked up incredulously as Draco removed his hand from his cock and replaced it with his own. Thin fingers slid gracefully up and down Harry’s manhood as though Draco was practicing the scales on a Muggle instrument. Harry’s head bowed forward, exulting in the touch. When the motion stopped, he opened his eyes again. Fuck. He didn’t even remember closing them. He was going to have to pay more attention tonight. This was too important to miss even a second of.

Draco’s hand had moved from Harry’s cock to his own opening. Harry waited with bated breath as Draco circled his entrance teasingly, fully aware that Harry was watching his every movement. He eased two fingers inside himself and let his head roll to the side in a contented gesture. Harry’s hands caressed and massage Draco’s thighs, as he couldn’t do much else in the moment. Although when Draco let out a long moan, Harry jumped into action.

He moved his body to hover over top of Draco steadying himself on his knees. Taking both of Draco’s wrists into his hands, he moved them above the blonds head, pulling one reluctant hand away from the puckered entrance. He blew a small amount of air through his lips and then instinctively pulled Draco’s legs around to rest on his hips. Placing the palm of one hand on Draco’s pelvis, he used the other hand to guide his hardness to Draco’s hole. His cock literally twitched when it touched Draco’s entrance, as though there were sparks of electricity buzzing just below the surface.

Pressing, pressing, pressing, ever so gently he felt the head of his cock slip into Draco, the first taste of that pure heat nearly cutting off Harry’s other senses.

“I want this. But I only want it if you want it too,” Harry managed to say, still wanting to make sure Draco was comfortable.

“Please, just fuck me already.” The sheer shock that followed that demand almost threw off Harry’s rhythm. Hell, who was he kidding? He almost stopped entirely to listen to that throaty guttural cry that flew from Draco’s mouth. But who was he to not oblige his boyfriend a request, especially when he asked so nicely?

Harry’s knees sunk deeper into the plush mattress, trying to gain leverage to thrust more forcefully into Draco. Draco, Merlin bless him, was inching up further and further on the bed, being propelled by Harry’s movements. He felt incredible focusing mainly on three thoughts. The fact that he was fucking a man, the fact that said man was Draco Malfoy, and the fact that he didn’t think he’d ever been more turned on in his life. Draco’s eyes were screwed shut in pleasure and concentration and Harry could just tell he was trying to clench his inner muscles as hard as he could just to see if he could throw Harry off his game. Well, Harry may have been new to having sex with men, but he wasn’t a complete novice. Hitching Draco’s legs up higher on his body so that they dangled about his shoulders, Harry changed the angle of his thrusts and seemed to locate Draco’s prostate.

An unchecked groan, long and glorious, spilled from Draco’s mouth and Harry smiled smugly, secretly pleased that he’d been able to unravel the normally unflappable blond.

“Like that?” Harry chanced, hoping his labored breathing didn’t give too much away about how much the sound had affected him. Draco finally opened his eyes and tried to look at Harry. His gaze was unfocused and he had to blink several times before the glaze lessened somewhat.

“Fuck yeah,” he gasped back. Harry shuddered a little, biting his lower lip with dangerous force in an effort not to come from that statement alone. Sweet Merlin, when had his cool nonchalant boyfriend turned into this wanton incredibly sexy creature? Thinking briefly about it, he was probably always that way.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. “You’re…incredible,” Harry whispered between thrusts, barely audible over the sound of Draco’s gasps and Harry’s balls slapping against Draco’s ass.

“I know,” Draco responded, but the smugness of his tone was somewhat diminished by the way his eyes kept rolling back into his head.

Harry grinned then, testing Draco’s flexibility and leaning his head down to take the blond in a passionate kiss. The feel of tongue on tongue was nearly too much for Harry to handle. His thrusts became more staccato-like, jabbing at Draco’s insides instead of completing the deep thrusts he’d been managing thus far. Draco seemed to catch wind of Harry’s predicament.

“Yes,” he hissed between nearly clenched teeth. “Come for me Harry.”

And Harry did. Only because he was asked so nicely. Violent, full-body shudders wracked Harry’s form  even as he continued drilling into Draco. Hot streams of come spurted from his cock and filled up Draco’s tunnel nicely. “F-fuck Draco,” he stammered, stomach still clenching spastically, as though his body wanted to be rid of every last drop of come and deposit it into Draco instead.

Vaguely, he felt a tightening around his cock again and looked up to lock eyes with steel gray orbs as Draco arched his back and came beautifully. Draco’s legs fell from round Harry’s shoulders, bouncing just slightly as they dropped back onto the mattress. Harry’s body was still rigid from his orgasm, but he somehow managed to brace himself on his forearms and nestle his face into Draco’s neck. The blonds’ breathing was magnificently labored and if Harry had more energy, he might have teased him about it. But now was not the time for poking fun. Now was the time for sweet murmurs before they passed into sleep.

“Love,” Draco began, after he regained some semblance of control over his voice and limbs. “That was…” he shook his head softly and wrapped his arms around Harry’s middle.

“It was,” Harry agreed and leaned down to peck Draco on the lips before rolling them so that they were on their sides. Harry was still inside him. He didn’t want to pull out. The depths of Draco’s cavern felt like home and Harry never wanted to leave. He just wanted to stay curled up, buried deep inside his boyfriend for the rest of eternity. As his breathing returned to normal, Harry placed his hand on Draco’s chest , over his heart and reveled in feeling the beating eventually even out, moving from a frenetic, dizzying pace, to a sedate steady thump.

Draco closed his eyes peacefully and then moved one of his own hands to lay against Harry’s heart. They lay there that way for several long moments, neither wanting to break the silence or move away from one another.

“You must tell me how you enjoyed your first time Harry,” Draco joked, his tired eyes alert with mirth.

“Mm, couldn’t you tell?” Harry replied sleepily. Merlin, when had he gotten so tired?

Draco smirked, the first sign that he was retrieving some of his old mannerisms. Good. Part of Harry had been afraid that once they started dating that Draco would lose all his hard edges. Not so, it seemed.

“I know what I observed, but I would much rather hear what you experienced.” Draco’s voice should not have dropped into that dangerously seductive timbre at the last word.

Harry gave a jaw-cracking yawn. “Or we can talk about it tomorrow. For Merlin’s sake Potter, you should have said that I was boring you.”

The brunet nearly jumped straight up out of the bed to say ‘no’ before he noticed the grin on Draco’s face.

“Prat,” he muttered, before dragging him closer. As he took him in his arms, he noticed the nook of Draco’s neck smelled like that damned honeysuckle, sweat, and sex. He imagined that was what his amortentia potion would have smelled like had he ever managed to brew it properly back in school. He pressed several kisses onto Draco’s shoulder and felt him melt even further into Harry’s arms.

Draco sniggered and then danced his fingertips along Harry’s eyelids, causing them to flutter shut. “Get some rest Harry.”

“Don’t want to sleep,” Harry protested childishly before breaking out into another loud yawn. “Ok maybe I do.”

Draco chuckled again and then kissed Harry slowly, passionately on the lips. “Do you plan on pulling out of me anytime soon?” he asked after they’d pulled back from the kiss.

Harry’s cheeks reddened. “Not really. Is it bothering you? I can move,” Harry made to grab his cock at the base and pull it out when Draco placed a hand on his wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t you dare. I’ve always wanted to fall asleep this way,” he said, to his credit, only flushing minutely.

“Alright then.” He kissed Draco again, pulled his body obscenely close to his own and then closed his eyes. The last thing he heard before he drifted off was a contented sigh from Draco.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco spends money, Ron slips up, and Harry is an insufferable brat. No, really.

Previously...

_"Alright then." He kissed Draco again, pulled his body obscenely close to his own and then closed his eyes. The last thing he heard before he drifted off was a contented sigh from Draco._

* * *

Harry's POV

The muscles of Harry's hips, thighs, and back were pleasantly tender when he awoke some hours later with his limbs wrapped around Draco's near-comatose body. At some point during their nap, Harry had slipped from Draco's heat and he cringed at the feeling of dried sweat and…stuff…coating their skin. Taking great care to extricate himself from their tangle of limbs without waking the other man, he quietly crossed over to the bathroom. Harry groped around in the already dark room for the cup on the sink holding their toothbrushes and deposited them on the counter. After transfiguring the tumbler into a wide bowl, he filled it with warm water, plucked a washcloth from the rack and carried both back into the bedroom.

Draco was still in the same position Harry had left him, curled up on his side, arms and legs reaching out in front of him. Harry knelt on the floor next to the bed and dipped the washcloth in the bowl. After wringing it out he began lightly wiping at Draco's sleep-heated skin. Cleaning spells were great in a pinch, but nothing could replace an old-fashioned wash-up like this. He took his time, caressing his way down the blonds torso, enamored with the feel of taut tendons under his hand. Finally, Draco stirred, and Harry glanced up to his face, watching the gray eyes struggle to open and focus on his surroundings.

"What are you doing?" Draco rasped.

"Cleaning you up," Harry replied and turned back to his task. He couldn't keep looking Draco in the eye. Even after all this time the gaze was still unnerving and he really didn't want to knock over the bowl of water beside him in his anxiety.

Draco's hand found Harry's and stilled his movements. "But why?" he asked quietly.

Harry threw him a sheepish grin and shrugged. "Because you were dirty. Because this beats a spell. Because I want to."

The corners of Draco's mouth lifted into a soft smile. "Sap," he accused with warmth in his eyes.

"The sappiest." Harry dropped a swift kiss on Draco's thigh and continued his ministrations.

They were both quiet as Harry finished up Draco's pseudo-sponge bath, the silence comfortable and not nerve-wracking as it had been so many times already that day.

"What time is it?" Draco asked suddenly.

Harry placed the cloth in the bowl and gingerly stood up with it. "Eight-thirty? Nine?" he guessed.

A scoff met his ears. "If you don't know for sure, don't guess Potter."

He smiled ruefully and carried the bowl back into the bathroom. "Check for yourself then Malfoy," he called over his shoulder.

By the time Harry had his own clean up and walked back into the bedroom Draco had pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and what looked suspiciously like one of Harry's t-shirts.

He frowned at his now-dressed companion. "I was hoping we could stay naked all night."

Draco smirked at Harry and then plopped himself down in front of the fireplace across from the bed. "We have other obligations tonight. And I'm about to check in on my son, so you might want to make yourself decent," he added.

Harry's eyes widened and he scrambled for his overnight bag as Draco called into the fire for Malfoy Manor. He hurriedly pulled on a pair of boxers and a wrinkled shirt while Draco briefly conversed with Lenni and then Blaise Zabini. He skulked in the background, not wanting to call attention to himself, but rather wanting to listen in on their conversation. Harry hadn't seen Zabini since Hogwarts, though he'd heard plenty from Draco about his scent-empire and his reluctance to settle down and have children.

"He's not in bed yet, is he?" he heard Draco ask. From his vantage near the pillows, he could see Zabini's head floating in the flames and rolling his eyes.

"You know damn well he isn't. What exactly do you feed that child? Pure granulated sugar?" The dark face frowned.

Draco chuckled. "He's only like that with you Blaise. He knows you're uncomfortable so he's winding you up."

Zabini's eyes widened a bit and then his frown gave way to a scowl. "Manipulated by a bloody seven year old…"

This time Harry laughed and he noticed brown eyes dart to him before moving back to Draco.

"That Potter?" Zabini asked.

"Blaise, you know perfectly well that Harry is here. There's no need to feign ignorance," Draco said, exasperation clear in his tone.

Harry took that as his cue to move closer to the fire. Shielding the majority of his lower bits from view, he sat down next to Draco, reveling in his warmth.

"Zabini," Harry said with a nod.

"Potter. You're looking…well," he said with a grimace.

"Er…you too?" It really wasn't supposed to be a question, but just sort of came out that way.

Draco sighed beside him. "Enough of the inanity, just get my son please."

"Listen at you, saying please," Harry teased once Zabini's head exited the flame.

Draco turned a vicious glare on Harry. "I am perfectly polite. I have no idea what you're insinuating."

"I'm insinuating that you didn't sound altogether polite a few hours ago when you were begging me to fu –"

"Hi dad! Hi Harry!" a bright voice called from the fire, making both Harry and Draco jump with guilt. He felt a burning blush creep over his face and dropped his head, muttering, "'lo Scor."

"Scorpius, are you behaving for Uncle Blaise?" Draco asked, recovering much faster from the almost-disaster than Harry was.

A brilliant smile showed through the fire. "Yes dad. He let me go flying and I showed him the Anchor, Harry."

Harry's head popped up and he grinned, imagining the look of horror on Blaise's refined face at the sight of a seven-year-old performing a seemingly perilous move.

"That's great. I'm sure you were fantastic," he smiled.

Draco smirked and continued with his conversation. "I picked something up for you today Scorpius."

Even through the flames, Harry could see the excitement on the small face. He found it interesting that Scorpius could be so eager at the prospect of what was essentially a few souvenirs. Harry had assumed that he was the type of child who was consistently showered with gifts.

"Brilliant! What is it? Did you get me something too Harry?" Scorpius asked quickly, words tumbling from his mouth.

"Scorpius," Draco chided gently while Harry let out a belly laugh.

"I did get you something, but I think you dad wants everything to be a surprise." He turned to Draco to gauge his reaction.

"I do," he confirmed. "And you shouldn't pester people for gifts. You're supposed to just accept them graciously if someone decides to get something for you."

"Yes dad. You guys are coming home tomorrow right?" he asked, almost completely rolling over his father's reprimand.

Harry felt Draco shift slightly beside him before responding. "Not until Monday morning. Is something the matter?"

It was Scorpius' turn to look sheepish. "Nothing's the matter. I just miss you both. Uncle Blaise is ok, but - "

"Hey! I'm more than ok," Blaise hollered from the background.

Harry, Draco, and Scorpius all fell into laughter.

"We'll both be back on Monday," Harry reassured with a broad grin.

* * *

After saying goodbye to Scorpius and engaging in a heated snogging-turned-groping session, Harry and Draco got properly dressed and met Ron downstairs in the Quidditch Pitch Lounge.

"Have a good nap?" Harry asked, taking in Ron's drowsy expression.

"Yeah, fine. You ready?" Ron asked shortly.

Harry frowned but nodded, unconsciously leaning into Draco's body as they approached the lounge. Soft blue and violet lights filtered down from the ceiling, casting whirling and geometric patterns on the hardwood floor. Satiny high-backed chairs and booths were positioned in perpendicular clumps around the room leaving space for a small dance floor which led to a massive bar on the back wall.

They made their way to a little circular table in the back corner of the lounge, close to the bar but far enough away from the dance floor to avoid any overzealous dancers.

Harry picked up a white and gray drink menu and perused the options, seeing Draco cross his legs elegantly and do the same beside him. Across the table Ron was seemingly staring off into space, the sway of the dancers unseen to his distracted eye.

_Fuck. What's wrong now?_

"So, what would everyone like to drink? I can bring them over from the bar," Draco said diplomatically.

Harry turned to him quickly, thankful for the diversion. "I'll take the Myos Mead. Ron?"

His friend turned to him briefly and muttered. "Same. Thanks."

Draco nodded curtly and then whisked away to the bar to order.

"Alright, what's wrong with you?" Harry asked, irritated.

"Nothing."

He could feel an anger begin to brew in his chest and he didn't like it. Harry closed his eyes briefly and settled his breathing.

"Bollocks."

Ron glared at him and then seemed to think better of the idea, settling into an expression that was part scowl, part pout instead.

"Look mate. I know that Malfoy makes you happy and all but…I just don't like the idea of him buggering you, that's all."

"Bugg…how did you know about that?" Harry asked incredulously.

"The walls aren't soundproof mate," Ron said with a grimace. "Maybe next time a Silencing Charm? Just a little one?"

"Is that why you've been so snippy?" Harry asked, comprehension dawning.

"Think about it Harry. How would you feel if you could hear everything I was doing to Mione in the next room? I don't think it would make you bright and cheerful," Ron posed.

Harry's nose wrinkled involuntarily. "You might have a point there. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"No worries." Ron gave a slight smile and the knot in Harry's chest loosened.

"Have we kissed and made up?" Draco asked from over Harry's shoulder. Harry turned and relieved him of two of the drinks he was holding, passing one to Ron so he could sit back down.

Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Draco was quicker. "It's just an expression Weasley. Merlin knows you're as straight as they come."

Harry snickered watching as Ron managed to look both flattered and indignant at the same time.

"Too right I am. Just ask Hermione," he challenged.

"I'd rather not, if that's alright with you," Draco said drily and played with the condensation on his drink. Something that, Harry noticed, was smoking and electric blue.

"What the hell is that?" he asked, mildly perturbed.

Draco gave a dangerous grin. "Argon Apple Martini. Want some?"

Harry felt his stomach tense up with just the thought of drinking that…aberration. "No thank you. I'll stick to the mead."

He watched Draco shrug as he pulled his mug closer until he heard a throat clear from Ron's side of the table. Looking up questioningly, Ron had his mug held out in front of him for a toast.

Silently, Harry brought his glass up and waited for Draco to do the same. The blond rolled his eyes, but Harry didn't miss the tiny twitch the corners of his mouth gave. He brought his glass up until it was almost touching Harry's.

"What are we toasting Weasley?" Draco asked.

"Erm, to new beginnings and burying the hatchet," he said wisely.

Harry caught Draco's frown at the phrasing. He leaned into him and whispered, "Forgiveness."

Understanding passed over his face. "Ah, yes. Of course."

The trio clinked their glasses together and proceeded to imbibe over the things they'd seen that day and what they were looking forward to for tomorrow.

Caught up in the surprisingly easy and entertaining conversation, Harry found himself losing track of how many drinks he slammed down. He vaguely remembered arguing with Ron over who should pay the tab until Draco reminded them that their drinks were complimentary. He reckoned that Draco was the one who got them back to the hotel. And he was ninety percent sure that Draco undressed him before bed, although he couldn't be positive if anything else happened. There was a blond head on his chest at one point and then he was out cold.

* * *

Harry's head hurt. Bad. He knew that much and he hadn't even opened his eyes yet. The room felt like it was floating on a none-too-gentle ocean wave forcing bile up to his throat. He gave a little whimper of discomfort and then felt a warm hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles on the skin. With eyes still closed, he felt the warmth from his back shift and move off the bed. A few moments later, a cool glass vial was being pressed into his hand.

Warily, Harry opened his eyes and immediately closed them again, fighting to keep out the light and brightness of the hotel room.

"Drink this, it'll help," Draco said.

Squinting, Harry grasped the bottle and downed its contents without asking any questions.

"It's a blend of Hydration and Headache potions. Industry secret," he said with a brilliant smile that Harry could only see glimpses of.

"You're happy," Harry commented grumpily, voice directed into his pillow.

He could hear the laughter in Draco's voice. "Because I didn't get pissed last night. I only had a few drinks while you and Weasley seemed to be having an 'I can drink you under the table' contest."

"Hm," he grunted noncommittally.

The bed shifted again, this time in front of him and Draco slipped under the covers to enfold Harry in his arms. "You'll feel better soon. Don't worry."

"How did you brew something so fast?" Harry asked groggily.

"I didn't. That potion was from my personal stores at home. I told you I came prepared."

Harry nodded in agreement and then spent the next few minutes content in Draco's embrace while the potion raced to replenish the water in his system. Experimentally, he lifted his head and realized that it was no longer pounding. He then opened his eyes and found himself immediately gazing into Draco's amused face.

"You really are too happy for this early in the morning," Harry griped, voice still raspy despite the potion.

"Actually, it's afternoon now," Draco countered with a smirk. "A little after one."

Harry's brows furrowed. "Are you sure?" He didn't think he had slept for that long. After all, they'd gotten back from the lounge around what? Midnight? One?

A blond eyebrow lifted in amusement. "I'm quite sure. We didn't get back to the rooms until almost four so - "

"Four?" Harry exclaimed.

"Yes. And someone was feeling rather…amorous when we got back so that was another fifteen minutes or so."

"Fifteen minutes?" He was really going to have to stop repeating Draco's sentences back to him in the form of a question.

Draco gave him an exasperated look. "You were hardly in the condition to have a marathon sex session, so your body just kind of gave up on you after a while."

"I fell asleep." Harry could feel the flush burning his cheeks.

"You did. I'm just glad it was while we were kissing and not in the middle of…other things."

"I'm sorry Draco."

Draco leaned down and pressed a kiss to Harry's lips. "Don't be. You can make it up to me later. Besides, we have more important things to talk about."

Harry shifted so that his head rested on Draco's shoulder. "Like what?"

"Like what you're going to do for your birthday. I realize it's cutting it close, but I figured I would wait to see if we made it through this weekend before discussing it."

Oh yeah. With everything that had been going on lately, Harry had genuinely forgotten that his birthday was in a week. The milestone was something that he'd truly come to look forward to. It was a chance to spend time with friends and surrogate family and be thankful that he had those special people in his life. And this year, he would get to include Draco in that group.

"I don't know," he responded. "Usually I just have something at the Burrow. Or Ron and Mione take me out for dinner and drinks. Though I could probably do without the drinks right now."

The arms tightened around his waist in empathy. "That's probably a good idea. Just think about it and let me know what you decide. I suppose Weasley will include me in any plans he comes up with."

Harry grinned at that and placed a kiss at the base of Draco's neck. "He will. He doesn't want to admit it, but I think he's getting rather fond of you."

"One day does not a best friend make Harry," Draco said imperiously.

"Not a best friend, no. But I think you're both getting closer. Whether you admit it or not." Harry laughed at how rigid Draco's body became.

"If you say so Potter."

The rest of Sunday passed by uneventfully. Ron had woken much in the same state as Harry had, and seeing as though Draco was out of potions, he had to suffer through the best he could. That being said, they spent the majority of the afternoon lounging around the hotel room and playing the miniature version of Wizard's Chess that Ron had brought along. Despite his horrific hangover, he managed to beat both of the other men, though Draco had proved to be quite a challenge.

By the time he was feeling like a person again it was evening time and Harry suggested they all go down for the final Convention activity for the day, a Quidditch auction. International Quidditch Relations was selling vintage Quidditch brooms, league-approved balls, and uniforms.

A brief murmuring began after they had been in the room for several minutes searching for three available seats. Harry ignored it, but after the fourth or fifth incredulous stare in his direction, he was beginning to lose his patience.

"What the hell is everyone staring at?" he asked Draco and Ron.

"I think they're rather shocked that you're willingly associating with a former Death Eater," Draco mused drily.

Harry's chest got tight as they sat down near the back of the assembled crowd. "Well that's – who cares who I associate with?" he said, voice getting a little louder than he'd like, but he couldn't be worried about that right now. Not when everyone was staring anyway.

"Mate, you know everyone always cares about who you're with or what you're doing. You're a public figure," Ron analyzed.

Harry shot him a glare, but knew he was right. As much as he hated the attention, the public at large was always going to nose into his business whenever they saw fit.

"They need to keep their bloody eyes to themselves," he muttered darkly, ignoring Draco's chortle from his right.

"Hush, the auction's starting," Ron reprimanded.

Disgruntled, Harry watched the auction begin, but did not raise his hand to bid on anything. Draco on the other hand was bidding on items like it was going out of style.

Autographed 1961 Wimbourne Wasps team photo? Draco bought it.

First edition 1983 Volere Broom? Draco bought it.

2005 World Cup Snitch? Well, Draco tried to buy it. He was outbid by some bloke in the front, but it was the effort that counted.

"Are you trying to spend all your money?" Harry whispered to him.

"Shhh, I'm concentrating," Draco murmured, raising his hand at the 50 Galleon mark for a pair of limited-edition gloves worn by Finbar Quigley. "And besides, there are worse things to spend money on."

Harry couldn't argue with that and found himself transfixed by the sight of Draco eagerly snapping up all the memorabilia he could. So much so, that he barely realized the auctioneer was on his last lot for the evening. The 2011 World Cup Trophy, won by the Holyhead Harpies. Harry could see the gleam in Draco's eyes at the prospect of owning such a prestigious piece of Quidditch lore and also noted with amusement the weary look the auctioneer sported at Draco's constant bidding.

Might as well give him a run for his Galleons.

Harry waited until the bidding had reached 95 Galleons. Draco and a pompous-looking woman to their right were the only ones still bidding. Smoothly, Harry raised his hand to place a bid for 110 Galleons. In his peripheral vision, he could see Draco turning his head toward him, swiveling slowly. His eyes blazed with anger, but also with challenge and that was what Harry was more concerned with.

Back and forth they went bidding against one another, the old woman dropping out somewhere around 250. It wasn't even about the price at this point. All the proceeds were going to charity anyway and Harry had plenty to spend. No, this was about beating Draco, a competitive streak flooding his system that he hadn't felt around the blond since Hogwarts.

275…300…365…Harry gave Draco a look that was only partially spiteful and bid 500 Galleons. Draco inhaled sharply, narrowed his eyes in disgust and folded his arms, silently conceding.

A smug grin erupted on Harry's face.

"Going once…going twice…sold! To the gentleman in the back. Well now, I do believe that's Mr. Harry Potter."

Fuck.

Harry turned crimson as every head in the room turned back to him, but even that could not quell the feeling of satisfaction he got from winning the bid.

As Harry, Draco, and Ron walked up to the front of the room to make payment arrangements, they were stopped every few feet by people who wanted to shake his hand and tell him stories about how he helped keep their families and loved ones alive. Draco, seemingly more annoyed at his loss than the lack of attention, walked beside him with a petulant expression. By the time they'd signed the paperwork to have the funds drafted from their Gringotts accounts, Harry's high was coming down a bit and he was remembering his earlier frustration with Draco being snubbed.

"This is so ridiculous," Harry ranted as they entered the Blue Buck Inn for their final evening. "Not once did anyone say hello to you or even fucking acknowledge your presence. Doesn't that bother you?"

"I think it would have bothered me when I was younger," Draco said calmly. "I'd just as soon be left alone these days."

Ron nodded enthusiastically. "Especially after yesterday."

Harry felt Draco stiffen beside him and Ron's face immediately flushed bright red.

Furrowing his brow, he asked, "What happened yesterday?" turning to Draco when Ron tilted his head to the floor.

"I'll tell you later," he said in a tight voice, staring at Ron pointedly.

_What the hell is going on?_

* * *

Draco's POV

_Bloody Weasel, can't keep his mouth shut about anything._

They'd barely made it past the threshold of their room before Harry rounded on him wanting to know what happened the day before. Weasley of course had high-tailed it back to his own room, leaving Draco to face the wrath of Harry Potter alone.

"Can we sit down?" Draco asked, buying some time to consider just how angry Harry would be that he wasn't informed of a potential life-saving moment.

Harry plopped down unceremoniously into one of the lounge chairs by the fire and waited for Draco to do the same.

With a sigh, Draco sat across from him and folded his hands. "When you were buying Scorpius' present yesterday, I went to drop in on a lecture and had an unfortunate run-in with the ass who jumped me in Diagon Alley."

"What."

Draco pursed his lips. That 'what' was not a question, but a clear indication that Harry was pissed off that he was just hearing about this.

"Weasley assisted me and we got rid of him. No one was hurt," he added quickly and waited for his boyfriends response.

He watched as Harry's jaw clenched and set his face into a hard expression. "The creep that gave you those Merlin-awful bruises was there at the convention and threatened you again. And when were you planning on telling me this?"

"I was going to wait until we got back. I didn't want to ruin the rest of the trip," Draco said truthfully. "And in the vein of full disclosure, it was the man that you and Ron met up with prior to all that – Harding?"

A flicker of recognition lit Harry's eyes and he jumped up from his seat. Draco could clearly see the energy buzzing along the brunets skin at the confession. He shook his head back in forth with apparent disbelief.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me something like that right away Draco. I want you to be safe, don't you understand that?"

Draco's heart skipped a little with the admission. Harry cared about him and was only being protective because that's how he shows affection. He stood in front of Harry cautiously and placed his hands lightly on the other man's hips.

"Of course I understand that. But I also don't want you to have to worry about me every second of the day. I can take care of myself, even if it doesn't always seem like it," he said with a wry grin.

Harry exhaled heavily and draped his arms on Draco's shoulders. "I know you can. Just…just be careful alright? I don't want to lose you."

Smiling lightly, Draco brought Harry closer to his body and placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. I will. I don't want to lose you either."

Harry finally gave a genuine smile and kissed Draco fully on the lips. "As long as we're clear, why don't we get in bed so you can show me how much you want to keep me around?"

Draco curled his fingers in the belt loops of Harry's jeans and tugged him toward the bed. "I thought you would never ask."

Two blowjobs and a massage later, Draco was lounging in bed with Harry, running his fingers through the man's thick locks as he slept soundly beside him. He was glad that he'd decided to come along for this trip. Even though it had been more than a little rocky at the beginning, he was proud of himself for sticking it out. As he was reviewing the weekend's events in his head, a faint tapping at the window caught his attention. Getting up from the bed gently, he ambled over to the window where a small owl was waiting. He opened the window soundlessly and detached the letter from the owl's leg before it flew back off into the night.

Draco unfolded the letter and read the contents with a steadily increasing sense of dread. Shit. Harry would not be pleased about this.

* * *

Harry's POV

Another beautiful summer day dawned on Monday morning and Harry waited until the eyes next to him opened to expose gunmetal gray before kissing Draco's nose and then leaping out of bed. He'd been up for about 10 minutes, but wanted to spend as much time as possible lounging with Draco before they had to leave. They were already pushing it at this point.

"Good morning love. It's time to get going," he called cheerfully over to the bed while he began searching the room for his belongings and stashing them back into his overnight bag.

"Morning," Draco muttered sleepily.

"So listen, I was thinking. Did you want to go out to dinner for my birthday, or maybe have a little get-together at the house? I'm fine with either," Harry asked, pulling a pair of fresh socks out of the bag and replacing them with the dirty pair from the floor. He was too knackered to take a shower right then, he'd take care of it when they got back.

"I actually need to talk to you about that," Draco said from behind him, voice tight.

Harry raised one brow, even though no one could see it, but didn't turn from the wardrobe. Draco's tone alone tied his stomach in knots. "What's the problem?" he asked cautiously.

"Well. I found out that I need to go on a business trip and it rather…overlaps with your birthday."

"You're joking." Harry's eyes narrowed as he turned, finally looking at Draco and impatiently wondering what the punchline was.

The blond looked as close to nervous as he'd ever seen him and appeared to wince. "It's not a joke."

"You're fucking joking," Harry repeated. He knew he was probably overreacting, but still. This was the first time in years that he was in a relationship on his birthday, and Draco was telling him he would still have to spend it alone. And right after having an argument about not being open no less. "I suppose this is something you were going to get around to telling me as well?"

"I just found out!" Draco said defensively. "I got the owl while you were sleeping. I would get out of it if I could but - "

Harry snorted in disbelief and turned around to finish dressing.

"And just what is that sound supposed to mean?" Draco asked, a touch of haughty Malfoy venom coloring his words.

"It doesn't mean anything. Just forget it." Harry waved a dismissive hand and bent down to snatch his t-shirt up from where it had fallen under the nightstand.

Draco sat up fully at his words, his voice growing angry. "I won't bloody forget it; I don't want to go on the trip. Don't you think I'd rather stay here and spend your birthday with you?"

"I think that this entire weekend you've been looking for ways to distance yourself from me." That wasn't entirely true, but Harry was upset now and just wanted to argue, even if it was over something practically nonexistent.

"You're mental," Draco replied, his voice low and grave. "We just talked about how I don't want to lose you. Why would I distance myself from you?"

Harry huffed, the effect lessened by his struggle to yank his shirt over his head. "I don't know. You tell me."

He could sense Draco stand up and move closer to where he was standing. A quiet inquiry met his ears. "Why are you being like this?"

"It's just everything! You wouldn't press charges against Tim, you didn't tell me about the incident Saturday, and now you're not even showing up for my bloody birthday."

Harry heard Draco's tone waver before it dropped into icy territory. "Again. It's not that I just won't be showing up. I have to work. You know I would be there if I could. And I was going to tell you about Saturday, idiot. Bloody Weasel just beat me to it."

"Don't you dare blame Ron because you were keeping things from me!" Harry bellowed, not caring how loud he got now.

"No one is keeping anything from you!" Draco yelled back. "Merlin, have you gone mad?"

Harry glared at Draco, now fully dressed and bag packed. "Apparently," he spat out.

Shouldering his duffle bag, Harry moved toward the door. "I guess I'll see you at home." As fast as it had come, all the fight left Harry's system and he walked out into the hallway, making the trip down to the lobby and the field outside to Apparate away. He didn't care that he didn't have the Portkey or much care where he wound up, he just had to get away right now.

Back in the hotel room, Draco had sunk down to the floor, head in his hands, wondering where everything had gone so terribly wrong.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well readers, we've reached the end. Thanks so much for reading and stay tuned for some announcements at the bottom. Also, extremely mature content below (male/male sex, rimming, slight foot fetish).

  
Draco's POV   


Draco was lost. Not in the existential, 'what is my purpose in life' kind of way. But in a 'Harry Potter just stormed from our hotel room and I'm gobsmacked' sort of way. And on top of being confused and lonely, he was hurt. Harry had accused him of, what? Withholding information? Distancing himself? Not caring enough to be there for his birthday? That last suggestion was the one that kicked him in the gut. Despite popular belief, Draco was not a piece of cold-hearted vermin. He knew very well the importance of surrounding oneself with loved ones on special days. And to think that Harry was of the mindset that Draco wouldn't be right there if he could…stung.

Breathing shakily, he got up from his spot on the floor and moved swiftly to take a shower. He knew the brunet well enough to not chase after him right now. Harry had worked himself into a right snit and would only be able to hold a legitimate conversation after calming down. Besides, Draco now had the honor of remaining behind and explaining to Weasley why Harry had run off. Joy.

Draco cleansed himself quickly and got dressed, sending his belongings to be packed into his luggage with a simple spell. He set the bags to hover in the air and gave a quick glance around the room to make sure he'd collected everything. With a miserable frown, his eyes fell on the bed which was already neatly made due to the hotels magic. They had made memories in that bed. His first night of being filled with Harry, writhing underneath him, and coming together was etched into his brain, practically tattooed onto the gray matter. But now there would also be this swooping sensation of loss to accompany what should be a heart-warming recollection. He just hoped that he would have the opportunity to continue making new memories with Harry. Sexual and otherwise.

Weasley was waiting for him in the lobby when he finally managed to tear himself away from his thoughts and the room. Even though Draco knew he was long gone, he couldn't stop the automatic scan of the entrance to see if maybe Harry had waited for him or decided to come back. There was no dark messy hair to be seen and it only added to Draco's melancholy.

"Hey Malfoy," Ron called genially. "Harry right behind you?"

Draco's mouth was set into a tight line. "No. He left." And he said that without a little tremble at the end. Honestly.

The skin of Ron's forehead wrinkled in his bewilderment. "What do you mean 'he left'?"

"I mean that he's gone. No longer in our presence," he snapped and then immediately felt bad. It wasn't Ron's fault that Harry left. Well, maybe it was a smidgen his fault, but Draco wouldn't dwell on that. He took a calming breath and then continued. "We got into a bit of an argument and he left. About a half-hour ago."

"But I thought you two were getting on alright. I know that you guys…you know," Ron made vague hand motions and Draco assumed he was referring to sex.

"We did 'you know' Weasley, but that didn't stop him from getting angry with me when he found out I'll be gone on a business trip on his birthday."

Ron's face changed into something akin to sympathy. "Oh, that's bad luck mate. I'm guessing he didn't take it too well."

"You'd guess correctly. I mean, I could understand him just being disappointed. I would be if he couldn't be with me for my birthday. But you should have heard the way he was ranting at me. Like I had done some awful thing or as if I planned the trip on purpose." He almost dragged his fingers through his hair in frustration, but yanked the hand away at the last second.

"You didn't, did you?" Ron asked cautiously.

Draco gnashed his teeth in response. "Of course not!"

The red-head held up a placating hand. "I just had to ask. Come on, let's get out of here and maybe we can go get a drink."

"It's barely ten am Weasley. Are you trying to help me develop a drinking problem?" Draco asked with a querulous expression.

Ron grinned. "As the Muggles say, it's five o'clock somewhere."

* * *

Harry's POV

_I am such a fucking idiot._

That was the consistent theme running through Harry's head as he made his way back to 12 Grimmauld Place and subsequently, the camp. He'd had to make three separate Apparition trips to get there, so as not to strain his magic too badly. And after collapsing into his chair in the camp office, he couldn't help but think how effortless it would have been to simply place his hand on a Portkey and wind up back home in a matter of seconds. Maybe he would have been able to if he hadn't been so much of a prat to Draco. Or rather, maybe he would have been able to if he hadn't stormed off like a child.

Now that his blood wasn't boiling he could think a little more clearly and realized that of course it wasn't Draco's fault that he would be away on his birthday. And deep down, he knew the blond wasn't keeping secrets from him either. He supposed he was just feeling a touch overwhelmed, what with having sex with Draco for the first time and spending their first weekend together and dealing with the crowds and their general disdain for his boyfriend. It was no wonder he was feeling on edge and argumentative. But wrangling new and unfamiliar feelings was no excuse for being suspicious and mean. Especially not to Draco, who experienced enough of that rubbish on a daily basis.

Harry dropped his head into his hands on top of the desk and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He had to apologize, and quickly. He could clearly imagine Draco's internal walls swiftly being built back up, and Harry had too much enjoyed seeing him open and accessible with no masks to be held at bay again. Push come to shove, he would break those barriers down again and again. If he'd learned nothing else from this experience, he knew that Draco Malfoy was worth the effort.

Mentally, he molded the guilt that was plaguing him into a determination to make things right. He would make the house of Gryffindor proud.

* * *

Work was proving to be a little more difficult than he'd anticipated. Over lunch he'd told the rest of the staff all about the convention and shared details about upcoming broom models and equipment, neatly sidestepping everything that happened with Draco. But afterward, when he climbed onto his broom and circled the pitch a small blond head caught his attention from below.

Scorpius. Harry grimaced and wondered if Draco had told him about their fight. He imagined that Draco had merely glossed over the fact that they hadn't come home together and made up some sort of excuse on Harry's behalf. Because Draco was the sort of person that would cover for him, even when they were in the middle of a disagreement. But had Scorpius understood? Or did he blame Harry for making his father upset? Only one way to find out.

"Are you alright Harry?" a dark-haired man asked from beside him.

_Oh, that's right. Sherwin._ The stocky teen rode low on his broom, tanned and muscular forearms nearly crossed on the handle in front of him as though lounging over a counter. The man had begun his stint as assistant coach right when Harry left for the convention, and even though there wasn't a whole lot of time left on the camp schedule, he seemed genuinely honored by the opportunity to gain some experience.

"Fine," Harry replied to his question. "Just a little lost in thought. Do you mind if I check on another group for a moment?"

"No, go ahead. I can handle this lot." Sherwin waved Harry off and he caught a glimpse of a dark, tribal-like banded tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of his t-shirt. Harry cocked his head to the side slightly, grudgingly intrigued by the way the ink twisted around the man's large bicep and curved…

Harry shook his head quickly and backed away on his broom, chastising himself, but muttering his thanks. Hadn't he learned his lesson about ogling attractive co-workers? Besides, he found himself much more drawn to pale flawless skin that covered sinewy muscles instead of bulky ones. His stomach clenched. He missed Draco already.

Harry waited for breaks to start in the beginners group before flying over while Scorpius stood separately from the rest of the team, straightening the bristles of his broom. He approached the child tentatively after dismounting and then relaxed when Scorpius broke into a broad grin at his appearance.

"Harry! You're back!" he exclaimed and hugged him around the middle.

"I'm back," Harry repeated with a small smile. "How's everything going?" _Don't bring up anything Draco hasn't. Stick to general questions._

"Good. Dad said that you had a lot of fun at the convention. I wish I could have gone." Scorpius poked his lower lip out.

_Ah. Scorpius is in the dark then. Duly noted._

"Maybe you can go next year Scor. It depends on where it's held and if your dad can get passes."

"But if he can't get them you can, right Harry? You're friends with people at the Ministry. They would keep some passes just for you, wouldn't they?"

Harry couldn't stop the smirk from crossing his face. Even at seven, Scorpius was aware of using one's name to get perks. Typical Malfoy upbringing.

"I don't know. I wouldn't want anyone to give me passes just because I'm Harry Potter. I don't mind buying the tickets like everyone else."

Scorpius seemed confused by this. "But you _aren't_ like everyone else, you're special. You saved the world."

A light blush covered his face and he was unwillingly reminded of Ron's words at the convention.

_Mate, you know everyone always cares about who you're with or what you're doing. You're a public figure._

"I did Scorpius, but not so that people would give me things or treat me better than they treat anyone else. I did that because it was what I was supposed to do. It was the right thing to do. And it makes me uncomfortable when people put me up on some pedestal because of it."

The tiny pale face looked at him in appraisal and then accepted the statement. "I think I understand."

Harry smiled. "Good. And I'll bring your gift from the convention in tomorrow. I forgot it this morning in all the rush to get back."

"I won't see you tonight?" Scorpius asked so innocently that Harry was forced to keep his cringe internal.

"I'm not sure. Your dad may just want to get some rest tonight and get himself prepared for work and all."

"Oh alright." He tried not to notice that Scorpius' face fell, but it was hard.

"We'll see, ok?" he prodded.

"Ok."

* * *

At the end of the day, instead of hiding near the equipment shed or in his office as he normally did, Harry renewed the Cushioning Charm on the field and waited in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner for Draco to pick up Scorpius. He had only been standing there for a minute or two before he heard the pop of Apparition that was somehow inherently Draco.

Turning from his task, he saw Draco standing with Scorpius maybe twenty feet away and was instantly whisked back to the first day they'd seen one another after Scorpius enrolled. Draco, as usual, was wearing his work robes and sporting a fatigued expression. As their eyes locked over the distance, Harry saw something else in those beautiful orbs that he couldn't quite distinguish.

"Hi," he said quietly, moving closer to the two blonds.

"Hi," Draco echoed in an equally soft voice.

Briefly glancing at Scorpius who was attempting to twirl his broom like a Muggle Color Guard, he spoke again. "Can we talk?"

Draco seemed to hesitate, but then nodded. "But I can't right now. Is it alright if I come through after putting Scorpius to bed?"

Let down that they couldn't talk now, but thankful Draco wanted to see him at all, Harry nodded earnestly. "Of course. You know the Floo is always open for you."

That seemed to soften the hard edges of Draco's eyes and he let a minute smile play on his lips. "Alright, I'll see you tonight then. Let's go Scorpius."

Harry gave them both a wave and watched them wink out of sight.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

It was close to nine pm and Harry and Draco were in his sitting room in an odd parody of their first "date." When Draco had emerged from the fireplace, they gave each other hesitant smiles and sat down in an awkward silence until Harry blurted out his apology.

"Harry - " Draco began.

"No, I am Draco. The things I said, what I did, were immature and uncalled-for. I just hope that you don't think too badly of me and that you can forgive me."

Harry waited several moments for Draco to respond. His heart, currently hammering away in his chest, would be devastated if Draco began having second thoughts about their relationship. They were still early days and didn't have the stability and resilience of a long-term couple.

_Yet_ , he hoped.

Curtailing Harry's thoughts, Draco spoke.

"I forgive you."

He found that his breath came easier after Draco's statement.

"But I'm still upset with you," the blond warned.

Harry bit his tongue, but nodded. "Understandable."

"I just…I need to know that you think more of me than that. To know that you're aware of the depth of my feelings for you. And that you won't play fast and loose with them. I don't let many people in Harry. Hardly anyone. I really want you to be the exception." Draco flushed a little, but did not break his gaze with Harry.

"I do think more of you Draco. So much more. It was just a lot, this weekend. I hate the idea that I can't always be there for you. I hate that other people don't see your innate goodness and dismiss you as a Death Eater. And then I felt like you were being secretive and…I suppose I didn't handle it very well. I like to think that I'm generally a pretty rational person, but I guess you make me sort of…"

"Irrational?" Draco asked with a smirk.

Harry shrugged shamefacedly. "Something like that."

Draco gave a little smile and that was all it took for Harry to cross the small space between their seats and settle himself in the other man's lap. He ran his fingers through the flaxen locks and brought his face down close to Draco's, inhaling his scent and listening to his heartbeat struggle between relaxing at the dissipation of tension and speeding up due to the immediacy of their groins. A chaste kiss was placed on the delicate pink lips so close to his own and as if by habit, Draco's hands snaked around his waist and found their way to his back.

Harry brought both of his own hands down to Draco's chest and teased the broad chest muscles with light fingertips. He felt a moan catch in Draco's throat and kissed his way down his neck to see if he could elicit any more of those sounds. Halfway through his trek, a hand was placed in the middle of chest, pushing him back gently.

"Harry wait," Draco began. Harry looked up at him questioningly, a haze already drifting over his vision.

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way, because it should be obvious by now how I feel about you and… _these_ types of things," he dragged his hands down Harry's sides for emphasis.

"But?" Harry was beginning to feel disheartened.

"But I don't want sex to be the solution to every problem we have. Despite how pleasant a solution it would be," he grinned.

Unwilling to give up on his rapidly growing arousal so soon, Harry fought back. "It's not the solution. It's our reward for being so forthcoming with our feelings." He danced the fingers of his right hand up under the sleeves of Draco's robes and caressed his wrist tenderly.

Draco shook his head in amusement. "I almost forgot that you're a Slytherin at heart," he goaded, but with a noticeable pink tint to his cheeks.

"Mmm," Harry contributed, moving his fingers up Draco's forearm and simultaneously twitching his hips forward infinitesimally.

Draco pulled back again. "Harry, maybe I should just focus on this trip for now and then we can focus on _us_ when I get back," he suggested. Harry hoped that he imagined the slight guarded expression in Draco's eyes.

"Oh, alright." Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything more.

Gray eyes searched his own, probing for the emotion lying beneath the surface.

"I want you. You are the most devilishly, ruggedly handsome man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing intimately. I simply want to give us a few days to get ourselves together. And then when I come back, we'll have even more to look forward to, yes?" Draco said, coupling his charismatic tone with his most winning smile. Harry didn't stand a chance.

"Yes," he conceded. "But 'ruggedly handsome'? Really?"

"What?" Draco asked, with wide innocent eyes. "Are you doubting my judgment?"

Harry slid off Draco's lap and squished himself between Draco and the arm of the chair instead. "Not so much doubting it as disregarding it entirely."

"Scoff if you must, but I know something good when I see it." Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's waist again and held him close. Harry leaned into Draco's side getting comfortable.

They had been cuddled up in the same position for several minutes before they spoke again.

"We'll be alright, won't we?" Harry mumbled against Draco's shoulder. Without hesitation, a whisper-soft kiss was placed on his temple.

"We'll be fine." Draco tightened his hold on Harry and the pair drifted off into a peaceful well-deserved nap.

* * *

"Happy birthday Harry!"

Harry grinned as he entered the camp office on Friday morning and was met with the grinning faces of all five of his co-workers and a disturbingly large pile of presents and cards crowding on his desk.

"My birthday's not until Sunday," Harry admonished, accepting hugs from everyone all the same.

"Yes, but we aren't working on Sunday, now are we?" Marco said, soundly clapping Harry on the back.

_No, but Draco is_ , Harry thought darkly. He and the blond had said their goodbyes the evening before, Harry promising to look in on Scorpius, Blaise, and the elves while he was gone. And Draco held fast to his 'no sex until I come back' rule, though not for a lack of trying on Harry's part. In the end, his boyfriend had given him a lingering kiss and vowed to Floo to Grimmauld Place as soon as he got back on Monday night. He was still disappointed, but back home around his family and friends, it didn't feel as earth-shattering as it had in Hertfordshire.

He chuckled weakly at Marco's comment. "I suppose not, but you all didn't have to do anything for me. A birthday card would have been fine. Not all…this," he waved a hand toward the stack of gifts.

"To be perfectly honest, most of these are from your fans and admirers. This one is from us," Sherwin clarified, pulling a medium-sized parcel from the heap.

Harry blushed, remembering that he'd routed owls from unknown people to the office so that he wouldn't be inundated with junk mail at Grimmauld Place. It was embarrassing how many people still cared enough to want to send him birthday presents.

"Sherwin, you really didn't have to be a part of this," Harry fussed. "You've been here what? A week?" The younger man shrugged as though he'd spent lifetimes celebrating the Saviors birthday.

"He wanted to," Allie piped in. "So stop protesting and let people do something nice for you."

Harry noticed that she stood rather close to Sherwin and he shot an amused glance at Phil over her head. Her brother shook his head ruefully and shrugged as if to say, "what are you gonna do?"

He laughed before sitting down in the "chair of honor" and opening his gift. He tore open the white and green wrapping paper and opened a long box. Sitting in a bed of cushiony green satin were midnight black Quidditch gloves and arm guards. The letters HJP were stitched into the leather in crimson thread alongside a remarkably detailed rendering of a phoenix.

Blinking at the contents of the box for a moment, Harry felt his heart swell. These were beautiful. More than beautiful really. Absolutely stunning. He felt more like putting them in a glass display box than wearing them out on the pitch.

"Wow," was all he could breathe out. "Thank you. These are amazing. Really."

Sophia was the first one to find her voice. "Glad you like them Harry."

"I love them. Thank you so much." Harry gingerly placed the box on the chair and gave everyone hugs in turn.

"And don't forget the one from the kids," Phil reminded, pulling a large envelope from Harry's desk.

Harry turned to face him, surprised that the campers had done something for his birthday. He pulled the card from its casing and grinned widely at the sight of a hand-drawn picture of himself flying on his broom. The picture had been charmed to move and it looked as though 'picture Harry' was soaring through the sky with the wind whipping through his jet black locks. At the very top the kids had written, "Happy Birthday Coach Harry!" and signed their names along the border. His smile threatened to take over his whole face when he noticed Scorpius' elegant signature near the bottom right corner of the card.

"Just brilliant. You all are wonderful," Harry enthused.

"It was the kids idea. As soon as we let slip that your birthday was coming up, they all wanted to make something special for you," Marco added.

Harry shook his head in silent wonder as he looked at the card again. Though he never actively sought out praise or admiration, it was nice every once in a while to know that he was appreciated.

* * *

When Harry awoke on Sunday morning, there was only one gift waiting for him at the foot of his bed. Which made sense really because the camp staff had given him their presents on Friday, and Ron and Hermione were saving their gifts for later that night when they went out for drinks. So that meant the gift waiting for him was from…

Throwing the light sheet from around his legs, he leapt from bed and knelt down in front of the bench at the end of his bed where a huge gilded parcel sat. He grabbed at the letter next to the present and smiled at the familiar shape of Draco's words, before he even read them.

_Harry –_

_I know that you're still most likely none too pleased with me for being away on your birthday. I'm a little mad at myself too. I wish I could be there waking up with you and watching your eyes focus slowly as you realize what day it is and see my gift sitting in your bedroom. Maybe you'll share the Pensieve memory with me when I return?_

_Please enjoy this gift. If anyone deserves it, it's you._

_Yours,_

_Draco_

When Harry looked up, the crate transformed and began to melt away into thin air. What was left made Harry's heart leap into his throat.

It was an owl. A beautiful short-eared owl covered in chocolate-brown feathers stared back at him. Its wings were lined in white pin feathers as though they'd been dipped into glossy paint. Attached to his leg (he assumed it was a he – Harry thought it was too large to be anything else) was another note.

_Just a little tidbit about your new companion. Apparently in the wild, short-eared owls can fake their own death to fool predators. So there's at least one thing you two have in common._

_Looking forward to returning to you,_

_Draco_

Harry couldn't stop the tears from falling. He had never planned on getting another owl. Trust Draco to not only put that idea to rest, but to choose the most perfect specimen available.

"Hello there," Harry called softly and held his forearm out to the bird. The owl peered at him with lutescent eyes from its branch-like perch and then fluttered over to him in a graceful manner which completely contradicted the span of his wings. Heavy on his arm, the bird shuffled back and forth as though trying to find the most comfortable spot without digging his talons in too deeply.

"What are we going to call you, hm?" he asked, bringing a finger up to caress the feathers of its neck.

"How are about Sancus?" The bird applied more pressure with its claws and hooted indignantly.

"What? That's the god of trust. No? Too high brow, huh? What about Mercury? The traveler?" The piercing in his arm increased to a shade past uncomfortable.

"It's cliché - got it." Harry sat in thought for a moment when new inspiration struck.

"I know! Zephyr."

He watched as the owl's feet loosened before chirping pleasantly and flying back over to his stand. Smiling through his tears, Harry continued petting the bird's feathers. "Hello Zephyr. Welcome to your new home."

* * *

"You're twenty-seven now Harry. How do you feel?" Hermione asked from across the pub table. She and Ron had met Harry at Nectar around eight-thirty to begin the birthday festivities. And as much as he hated to admit it, he would need to keep the evening light, as they all had work in the morning.

"The same way I felt at twenty-six Mione. Like I'm on the downslide to thirty." Harry grinned at Hermione's annoyed expression and chuckled into his lager.

"You shouldn't think of it that way. We're all growing wiser with each new year. In fact - " Ron placed a hand on his girlfriends arm to stop her pre-rant.

"I think Harry was just joking." Ron bit back a smile and his eyes met Harry's, dancing with laughter.

Harry gave his best solemn face. "I'm only kidding. Looking forward to new experiences and life lessons and all that."

"Fine fine," Hermione waved them off with a grudging smile. "But speaking of new experiences, how are things with you and Draco? I heard you had a bit of a rough patch."

He was sure his face was a mixture of emotions. Between his touching gift from this morning and the thought that by this time tomorrow he would be in Draco's arms, his mind was lolling in a weird sentimental limbo.

"We're ok. I just miss him. Oh! I didn't tell you. He got me an owl for my birthday."

Ron and Hermione looked at him blankly. "A postal owl?" Ron asked finally.

Harry took another sip of his beer. "Yes, a postal owl. How many different kinds of owls are there?" he asked rhetorically.

Hermione turned to look at him thoughtfully. "I think what he means is that an owl is a very significant gift. It's more than a pet, it's a creature and companion that you're entrusting with your personal correspondence. And to pick one out for someone else…it would just seem that Draco is very in tune with your needs."

He took a few moments to consider Hermione's words, while Ron tried to recover from the thought of Harry having 'needs.' Draco purchasing an owl for him was definitely significant, but probably not in the way that Hermione was talking about. For Harry, it showed him that Draco wanted him to have a fresh start and to begin letting go of some of the traumas of his past. Of course there were some things that he would never entirely be able to forget, and he didn't want to forget Hedwig. But he imagined it was more healthy to work on forging a new relationship rather than ignoring that part of his life altogether. And maybe, in that sneaky Slytherin way that Draco had, he was also asking Harry to forgive him for the traumas he inflicted back in Hogwarts.

"Mate?" Ron asked, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Harry's head whipped up. "Yeah? Sorry. Just thinking."

Hermione shot him a kind smile. "C'mon, let's get started on your presents."

Two hours later, Harry carried a satchel with a Quidditch calendar (courtesy of Hermione), a subscription to Bare Broomstick magazine (surprisingly from Ron), and assorted Weasley Wizard Wheezes products from the rest of the family into Grimmauld Place.

Zephyr was snoozing with his head under his wing in the corner of the kitchen. Harry dug out a few treats for him, placed them by his roost and headed upstairs for bed. All in all, it had been a pretty good birthday.

* * *

"Harry," a voice whispered.

"Mm?" Harry answered sleepily. He couldn't have closed his eyes more than an hour ago. Which meant that he was still in his bed…and someone was with him.

His eyes shot open at the same time his body reeled back from the intruder.

"Relax love, it's me," Draco assured.

"Draco?" Harry croaked. "What are you doing here?"

He began to focus in the darkness of the room and saw Draco perched on the edge of the bed, looking down at him with glowing silver eyes.

"Wishing you a happy birthday," he replied simply.

"But you're working." Despite his disorientation, Harry held his arms out for Draco to come closer. The blond shifted on the bed and slid under the sheet with Harry, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"I know. I can't stay, but I've missed you. I ducked out as soon as my last meeting was over. I'll have to go back in the morning," he warned.

A huge smile lit up Harry's face. "That's ok, you're here now."

Draco's face moved closer to Harry's and he sighed in satisfaction when their lips touched.

"Did you get my gift?" Draco asked after a thorough exploration of Harry's mouth.

"I did and he's brilliant. Thank you so much." Harry brought a hand up to caress Draco's cheek.

Draco snuggled closer to him. "What did you name him?"

Harry grinned. "Zephyr."

"West wind. Nice," he laughed.

"Yeah well, he didn't like anything else I picked out," Harry admitted.

Draco turned contemplative. "He did seem a bit high-maintenance. You'll have fun taking care of him I suppose."

Harry brought his lips close to Draco's. "I don't see why not. I have fun taking care of you."

An eyebrow lifted on the other man's face. "If you're implying that I'm high-maintenance…"

Harry shot him a look.

"…you may have a point."

"You're just lucky I like a challenge." He brought his hand down to Draco's waist and kissed him deeply. A shudder ran through him as though they were snogging for the very first time. There was a particular magnetism that seemed to draw their lips together again and again and for this moment, there was nothing else in the world that he wanted more. Even if the world was burning around him, he didn't think he could muster the energy to care. As long as he died with Draco's lips on his own, he could die content.

"Mmm Harry, you taste amazing," Draco muttered against his lips. Harry leaned his forehead against the blonds and tried to catch his breath.

"No, you," he murmured back idiotically.

Draco chuckled against Harry's mouth and he could feel the vibration from the laughter in his own chest. "I think I like you incoherent."

Nimble fingers slid under Harry's t-shirt and he trembled with sudden anticipation. "You said we were waiting until you came back to do anything," he prompted.

Draco deftly removed Harry's shirt and latched onto his neck. "Technically, I am back, if only temporarily," he mumbled.

"Well, I can't fight that logic," Harry gasped as Draco began sucking along his collarbone. His boyfriend spent copious amounts of time kissing and nipping his way down the length of Harry's body. He had expected him to stop somewhere along the waistband of Harry's boxers, but Draco kept his hands and mouth moving further south.

He paid special attention to Harry's inner thighs, knobbly knees, and even kissed the soles of his feet. By that point, Harry was a quivering mess, his thick cock fighting to be freed from his underwear. He watched with lust-darkened eyes as Draco lifted Harry's foot to his mouth and encircled his big toe with the hot cavern.

"Fuck," Harry cried. Who would have thought that part of his body would be so receptive to sexual stimulation? He desperately wanted to keep his eyes open to watch this erotic display, but when Draco brought Harry's other foot up as well and sucked both toes into his mouth at once, Harry lost that battle. Eyes now screwed shut, he felt Draco bob up and down on the digits as though they were his cock, tongue sliding along the surprisingly sensitive skin.

"Please," Harry begged, though he didn't know what for. The expression in Draco's eyes might have been scary if one didn't know that the intensity was due to desire instead of anger.

"Turn over," he ordered. Harry wasted no time in divesting himself of his boxers and laying flat on his stomach. He could hear Draco removing his clothes as well and moaned when the heat from the other mans bare skin draped over his back. Draco's cock was nestled in the crease of Harry's ass and he instinctively pushed back, needing to feel that friction.

"Not yet," Draco said, but rewarded him with a bite on his shoulder blade. He kissed a similar path down Harry's back as he had on the front, but this time paused when he got to Harry's bottom. Sitting back on his haunches, Draco massaged Harry's backside making Harry mindlessly rub against the mattress.

"Merlin, you're so eager. I fucking love it," Draco rasped in a voice that sounded only vaguely lucid. Seconds later, Harry felt warm breath tickling the skin of his ass and then Draco's hands were separating his cheeks and a tongue was lapping at his hole.

"Shit," Harry groaned loudly, almost lifting off the bed with yearning and astonishment. This was…nearly too much to handle. Draco's wet muscle teased at his entrance, sending sharp jolts pleasure up his spine. Over and over the tongue dipped into his heat, gently trying to loosen and relax him. Harry's prick was leaking all over the sheet below him, creating a sticky wet mess. But he couldn't even care about that. All he wanted was more. More tongue, more warmth, more…

"Draco, I need - " he managed to get out between moans.

The delicious tongue paused for a moment. "What do you need Harry? Tell me and I'll give it to you. Anything you want." A bite on his right cheek accompanied the statement.

"I need…you. I have to feel you inside me. Now." Draco didn't hesitate once. He got back up on his knees, placed two fingers at Harry's hole and pressed gently. He didn't slip the digits inside, merely applied pressure against the puckered skin, eliciting a groan.

"Please Draco. Lube. In the nightstand." Sounds and sensations were all he had left. The quick slide of the wooden drawer opening and closing. The click of the lube bottle being flicked open. The soft thump as the bottle was thrown and landed somewhere further down the bed.

When Draco's fingers returned, they were slick and created a tantalizing friction as Draco inserted them into his hot tunnel.

The pain was acute, but Harry didn't care. Draco was here, their bare skin touching in the best of places, his fingers inside Harry's ass as though they belonged there. That push and drag inside him was unraveling his sanity.

Draco spent some time preparing him, eventually pushing a third finger in to join the others. Harry pushed back on that too. The intimacy of the action was making him achingly hard and the mess on his sheets was now too inexplicable to even contemplate.

"You want my cock don't you?" Draco asked. Though it really wasn't a question. Harry's need was obvious, but Draco got off on the words, so he whimpered his assent and let him continue.

Hard kisses were placed on Harry's back while fingers were pumping in and out of him. "Your tight little hole is just begging to be filled. And my thick cock is going to fill it for you. It's going to stretch you out and you'll tighten around me like a vice. And you're going to love every fucking minute of it."

Harry's brain was now liquefied. So maybe he got off a bit on the words too. "Fuck Draco yes. Please fuck me."

"That's right, beg for it," Draco taunted, even though the head of his cock was already pressed against Harry's heat.

"Draco, fucking take me."

Harry barely heard the sharp inhalation of breath before Draco was thrusting inside his canal. Ok, so that felt…different.

Protective hands grazed his waist and Draco leaned into him. "Are you alright love?"

Gritting his teeth, Harry took a deep breath through his nose. "Fine, just, um,"

"Shh…take as much time as you need. I can wait." He placed soothing kisses along Harry's hairline and rubbed his side gently.

"Are you – are you all the way in?" Harry inquired hopefully.

"Er, not quite."

_Shit, this burns._ Somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten that this was his first time being penetrated by another man. It was most likely around the point Draco talking about his thick cock.

While Harry was taking cleansing yoga breaths, Draco tightened his left hand around Harry's hipbone and began moving his right. In an instant, Harry felt a smooth hand grip his cock and begin pumping in earnest. A small whine escaped his mouth at the pleasure.

"Mmm, that feels better doesn't it?" Draco purred against his neck. He couldn't say anything in response, but pushed backwards in an effort to be closer to the blond, inadvertently impaling himself a little further on Draco's prick.

"Harry," Draco whispered and intensified his hold on Harry's erection. A content sigh tumbled from his lips, aroused at the lusty tone that had taken over his lover's voice.

"Can I move now?" Draco asked, fingers gliding in the precome dripping from Harry's member.

He took another shuddering breath. "Yes."

Still palming Harry's hardness, Draco slowly pulled his hips back and drove forward, deeper into the constricting heat. It continued to sting for him but he imagined the worst of the pain was over now. Besides, past the ache, an enjoyable pressure was mounting deep in his groin.

"Oh…Draco."

"I know," Draco muttered, putting a twist in his hand and hip movements at the same time, causing Harry to cry out.

Soon Draco was thrusting into Harry's cavern at a breakneck pace, all thoughts of pain and discomfort a distant memory. "Yes," Harry murmured, meeting Draco thrust for thrust. Without fail, a slow blaze grew in Harry's stomach and he found himself on the summit of orgasm.

"Fucking hell Harry, I'm not going to last." Harry groaned as the other man shuddered violently and he felt warm come coat the inside of his ass. One tug of his balls was all it took for him to tumble over the edge with Draco. His entire body clenched up and his vision danced with sparkling light as white cords of semen coated Draco's hand and the sheet below.

He felt a mad urge to cry at that moment, that perfectly ridiculous, amazing moment in time where Draco Malfoy was still deep within his heat, but collapsed after a powerful orgasm. He could barely continue holding himself up on his forearms, but was already wondering how to shift his body in an attempt to cradle his boyfriends face in his hands, nuzzling his nose with his own. Merlin he had it bad.

Ragged breaths filled the air until he felt Draco shift so that he lay beside Harry. When Draco opened his eyes they still carried a shiny dazed quality that Harry couldn't help but be proud of himself for producing.

"Draco," he whispered.

"Yes Harry?" he asked. His voice was quiet as the grave despite the large inhalations of breath he was taking.

"I…that was wonderful. Thank you," he said, turning himself so that he could lay in the crook of Draco's arm.

Draco swatted lightly at Harry's hip. "Don't thank me. I should be apologizing." The blond leaned his head down so that his chin rested in Harry's hair.

"What the hell for?" Harry asked, baffled.

"I should have prepared you more," Draco sighed. "I went too fast and this was your first time bottoming. You just felt and sounded so good. I couldn't control myself."

"Draco, I'm fine. And you were amazing. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way." Harry admitted with a small smile, smoothing his palm down Draco's chest.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Draco," Harry propped himself up on one elbow, so he could look him in the eye. "You were perfect and so was…my first time," he said with a blush.

Draco grinned. "I'm glad. Happy birthday Harry."

Harry leaned in to place a sweet kiss on Draco's mouth. Over the blonds shoulder he noticed the time on his clock. The digital numbers flipped from 11:59 to 12:00 as he watched. A new day.

* * *

Epilogue

Harry wasn't quite sure how he had gotten to this point. Sure, he remembered the months of preparation that went into organizing and setting up camp. He would never forget the weeks upon weeks of flying in the sweltering heat, breaking up fights and consoling anxious parents. And becoming passionate about one parent in particular, of course.

He sat in the middle of the pitch at the end of the last day with the campers all around him, much like he had on opening day.

"I don't know about you all, but the last several weeks have been some of the coolest of my life. We have had an amazing time getting to know you and we thank you for giving us the opportunity to teach you some of the things we know about Quidditch. I hope that over the course of your time here that you have not only honed your skills, but learned something about friendship, acceptance, and teamwork."

Harry glanced over the heads of the campers and his eyes fell on a gorgeous blond leaning against the doorframe of the office. He hung back from the rest of the crowd so as not to interfere, but his presence alone showed silent support of Harry's venture. He smiled. It was just so Draco.

"The things you've learned here," Harry continued, "will stay with you in the future and I'm optimistic that as you grow, you'll look back on this time with fond memories of the relationships you've formed and what you've learned not just about the sport, but about yourself."

A girl with chestnut-brown hair from the 12 year olds, Candace, raised her hand in the middle of his spiel.

"Yes?" Harry asked, amused.

"Can we come back next year?" Several of the campers chimed in with choruses of 'Yeah!' and 'Can we?'

Harry looked back to Draco who wore a smirk now and then to his staff. They all were looking at him for confirmation.

"As long as your parents give the ok, you're all welcome back next year."

The cheering that surrounded him was deafening and he chose that moment to end his speech and get back to the office. A small blond torpedo tackled him from behind and he nearly lost his balance.

"We're going now right?" Scorpius asked once he untangled himself from Harry's legs.

"You hate camp so much that you can't wait to leave?" he teased.

Scorpius' face grew indignant. "Of course not! I'm just excited that you, me, and dad are all going flying together."

Harry smiled down at him. "I am too."

Reaching the office door, he turned his grin on Draco. "Thanks for coming," he whispered, leaning in close to the lithe body.

Draco craned his head forward and placed a simple, but meaningful kiss on Harry's lips. "Wouldn't have missed it for the world."

"Ew guys, don't be gross. It's time to go!" Scorpius bounced up and down in place.

Harry and Draco chuckled at his response.

"C'mon, let's go before someone spontaneously combusts," Draco said, reaching one hand out for Harry and the other for Scorpius.

* * *

After spending a few hours in the countryside, Harry leaned back in the grass and watched Draco scoop Scorpius up in his arms and swing him around in dizzying circles. The little boy who had stolen his heart laughed with glee, letting his limbs fall limp, completely trusting Draco to support him. A soft smile grew on Harry's face, but was no match for the fierce affection he felt for the two amazing blonds who were not just taking up residence in, but spreading their belongings throughout his heart.

For so long, he'd wondered what it would feel like to be right on the precipice of falling head over heels in love with someone. Wondered if he might feel suffocated by all that passion. Or perhaps, he had thought, it might make him an emotional wreck, driving him to tears every time he even thought about his loved one.

But no.

Draco swung Scorpius onto his shoulders and the father and son began walking in his direction. Two sets of gray eyes fastened on him with matching happy expressions and he felt his grin become wider. Inexplicably, colors grew sharper, sounds sweeter, and the world around him fairly glowed with radiance.

No. It felt like this.

_-fin_ -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things before I go:
> 
> 1) Thank you for sticking with me on this story. It was the first full-length HP story I ever wrote (about 3 years ago). Some parts make me cringe, but I think it was a good first effort. If you love the High Flying universe, you'll be glad to know that I'll be posting 5 bonus scenes shortly. They're just little tidbits that didn't fit into the story or that I deleted from the main text, but I hope you enjoy them nonetheless.
> 
> 2) If you have ideas/requests for a new story, please let me know. I can't guarantee I'll be able to write each one (especially since I've got 4 other stories on deck), but I'm open-minded and would love to hear what interests you.
> 
> 3) A new (ridiculously long) one-shot called East of Eden will be posted soon as well. It's already finished and meets your daily requirements of humor, drinking, and smut :-)
> 
> Alright, I've rambled long enough. Thanks once again for taking the time to read High Flying!
> 
> XoXo
> 
> WriteSprite


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